


trying to let you know (I'm better off on my own)

by Jazer



Series: Destroy the middle, it's a waste of space [3]
Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Gouenji roasts people because he has no chill, Hyouga and Gouenji start out with "i tolerate you cuz of Fubuki", Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kou adores Gouenji, Lots of naps, M/M, Nightmares, Parental Fubuki Shirou, Trust Issues, Yukimura Hyouga - centric, and a cat, before Gouenji gets to know Hyouga and singlehandedly decides to adopt him too, i feel like it's important to mention that Lu is the greatest and she was a big inspiration for this, mentions of God's Eden, music competition, serious talks at some points and everyone needs a hug, there are tickles in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazer/pseuds/Jazer
Summary: For Yukimura Hyouga being alone is something normal, something that’s actually part of his routine. He doesn’t need adults to iron his uniform, make his dinner or buy him clothes. Hyouga can do all that and more, all by himself.However, soon enough, he realizes that it doesn’t matter. Not to someone like Fubuki Shirou.





	1. tried to be perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeloQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeloQuill/gifts).

> Title taken from Pieces by Sum 41
> 
> LU!!!!! I'm fashionably late as always, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! I'm thanking the Gods and any other deity that's out there that allowed us to meet each other, because if they didn't, I would never know the precious person like you and I'd never know what it's like to talk to someone and not feel judged at all. You've grown so much this year and I'm looking forward to seeing you improve yourself even more. I left a detailed b-day wishes on twitter, so that's all I'm gonna say here ^^
> 
> Also, I remember that I promised you GouFubu tickles, but I also had to squeeze in some Hyouga, so I decided to write the third part of the first work that made us get closer to each other with both of those things. Hope you like it <3

Hyouga loves Nana.

Among other things, of course, but it’s Nana and her unusual human habits that make her so lovely - for example, Nana seems to actually understand what Hyouga is saying and when he tells her everything is going bad again, she runs at him and nuzzles his chin; when on occasion Hyouga sleeps over at Fubuki-senpai’s house and she finds him awake at ungodly hour, she goes into the man’s room and wakes him up; or when he hesitates in asking for something, she scratches his arm and glares.

Those are only few things that Hyouga noticed, but that’s not entirely the point.

The point is – Hyouga loves Nana, because Nana doesn’t judge, doesn’t give him unreal expectations.

And it seems, that when Nana is around, Hyouga is able to sleep soundly. Which doesn’t happen that often anymore, because his home became like a cold fortress.

It all happened after he stormed off after his fight with his parents, when he decided he’s had enough, he’s done playing by their rules – which, in honesty, doesn’t really help him, because it still feels like he’s being manipulated – and after he came back home from that, his parents decided to stop noticing him. Just like that.

As if Hyouga never existed.

As if they didn’t care anymore.

The house became unwelcoming – not like it was welcoming before, but it became empty in a way Hyouga cannot describe it. He can sit in his room, walls filled with posters and papers scattered across the floor, but it doesn’t change the fact that the walls outside his room are white and make him sick in a way Fubuki-senpai’s house never did.

There’s no dinner anymore left for Hyouga; he cooks it himself. There’s no pocket money; Hyouga has taken to helping around his neighbors for small change. There’s no anything, as if they lived together but in different worlds.

It hurts.

But Hyouga never tells it to Fubuki-senpai. It’s a confession Hyouga only whispered in a dead of the night to Nana, feeling far too vulnerable, far too exposed even excluding the fact that Nana is a freaking cat, therefore Hyouga shouldn’t feel so self-conscious about sharing stuff with her.

(Unless Nana is a reincarnated human being. The thought occurred one day in class and made Hyouga drop his pencil).

The thing is – Fubuki-senpai also noticed that Hyouga loves Nana and sleeps better when she’s around and now when Hyouga comes to school half-dead, with deep bangs underneath his eyes, Fubuki-senpai casually mentions that Nana misses him.

To which Hyouga stupidly always replies that he misses her too.

Which in turn leads to Hyouga ending like this – at Fubuki-senpai’s house with a cup of warm tea and cookies Miyuki-san must have given Fubuki-senpai some time earlier that day, petting Nana as she lounges in Hyouga’s lap.

It’s comforting. It’s safe. It makes Hyouga sleepy despite the fact that he’s taken a nap at lunch period earlier at school.

And then, “How’s school?” Fubuki-senpai asks between munching on a cookie and reading a book.

Hyouga doesn’t lift his gaze, because in that same moment, Nana decides to climb on his shoulder and lay her head on his hair. He smiles softly, then answers, “It’s cool.”

Then, after a pause, because they have a rule that Hyouga doesn’t downplay his day anymore, he adds shyly, “I got a full score on that History test.”

Fubuki-senpai doesn’t ask which one exactly, because he knows already. That was right after Miyuki-san mentioned that Fubuki-senpai loved literature and history related topics, but dreaded maths and Hyouga got a split-second courage and just blurted out if the man would be able to teach him for the next test. To which Hyouga was sure the man would refuse. He didn’t, refuse that is, and Hyouga is still kind of shocked by that.

(To be completely honest, Hyouga is still surprised by many things that Fubuki-senpai does but doesn’t have to do).

And when Hyouga finally looks back to Fubuki-senpai, the man is looking at him with a smile and says, “And here you were worried about not getting a passing mark.”

Hyouga is momentarily distracted by Nana’s meows otherwise he would be already massaging the back of his neck in embarrassment, “Hah, you’re right, senpai. Guess it paid to actually study this time, huh?”

Fubuki-senpai looks back to his book, but not before raising an eyebrow, “You always study, Hyouga. Besides,” he turns another page, “I’m really proud of you.”

Hyouga’s brain halts, like it always does when someone says nice things to Hyouga and he stares at the man, wondering why he’s so honest all the time, why he makes Hyouga think of all the times his full scores got ignored in favor of his parents’ work.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in response, before he goes back to playing with Nana. Fubuki-senpai hums at him, but after that, it stays quiet.

But it’s okay, because the quiet in Fubuki-senpai’s house isn’t the same quiet Hyouga’s used to at his home.

Sometime later, when Nana is wiggling on his chest and Hyouga is forced to lay down on the couch, he thinks that’s it’s okay – to be like this, that nothing is going to happen if Hyouga closes his eyes. So he does, just as Nana settles herself on his ribs, the pressure not too heavy but familiar.

And as always, he falls asleep just as fast as he feels Fubuki-senpai throwing a blanket over him.

* * *

His mother stops asking Hyouga to quit, but one day, she comes to his room when he’s studying and she sits down on his bed. The panic that grips Hyouga’s heart at being watched makes him tighten his fingers on the pencil and make a long, uneven line on the paper. He mentally curses at himself.

But she doesn’t say anything.

Hyouga doesn’t know why she’s even there, why she’s watching him. It’s that look again – the cold, not understanding one that makes Hyouga’s stomach twist and untwist with uneasiness. He knows she’s there for something. She’s searching.

Then, her eye catches on the scarf around Hyouga’s neck.

“He gave this to you, didn’t he?” she asks, in a tone that tells Hyouga she’s not really looking for answer, she just wants him to say it out-loud, so she can bring out a reaction out of him, “That crazy old man?”

Hyouga bites his tongue, and shrugs, “Maybe.”

The ‘you’re the one who’s crazy,’ gets caught up in his throat, but the power it gives him – finally being able to admit that to himself – is enormous, freeing even. Because Hyouga knows now that there’s nothing left for him to say, he’s already made himself clear. That whatever power she has over him is limited to this house, those four walls, and outside them – Hyouga has support and family that actually cares for him.

For him, because his parents care too. Just not for the Yukimura Hyouga he actually is, but for the boy who was locked away in a tower with no backdoor.

His mother shifts and Hyouga’s eyes automatically drift to her hands. She stills them when she catches him looking and something shows on her face – recognition.

“Is he better than us?”

Same question but phrased differently.

_‘They are not your parents!_’ they said once about Miyuki-san and Fubuki-senpai.

Hyouga wants to answer honestly, say that Fubuki-senpai in those short few months showed more empathy and understanding for Hyouga than his parents did since he was born, but at the same time, the lingering fear, the guilt of speaking against them, makes him hold back.

Because without them, Hyouga has nothing.

Because no matter how much he tries, he can’t hate them completely. Some part of him will always love them, will always try to find the good sides of them, no matter how much they hurt Hyouga. That’s the downside of having a shitty family – even if they’re bad, you feel obliged to love them anyways. That’s what the social standards tell you to do.

“I don’t understand,” Hyouga finally answers.

Something tightens in her expression as she lifts her head higher, “I asked if he’s a better parent than we are.”

Hyouga decides he’s done doing homework and shuffles the papers inside the binder. Then, he cleans the desk, puts his things in the messenger bag he swings onto his shoulder, all the while knowing his mother is watching him and only then, he turns to her to reply.

“Fubuki-senpai isn’t my parent.”

His mother narrows her eyes, displeased. Hyouga stares back and for once, doesn’t flinch when she gets up and closes the distance between them. He’s tense and on edge, but he can’t afford to move. His mother is like a predator, wild and she senses fear like one. The moment Hyouga shows weakness is the moment she wins.

He hates it, that he needs to watch his step even now.

“Isn’t he?”

Hyouga swallows, but doesn’t back down, “You are.”

His mother snorts and it’s weird to hear, when she acts so composed all the time. The surprise is gone when she finally looks at him, like he’s an object to be stepped on. He doesn’t get it – why she tries so hard to be mean to him, to humiliate him or hurt him. He wonders if it’s something he did in the past, that make her and his father like this – so unfamiliar and strange.

He pushes that away. Fubuki-senpai wouldn’t want Hyouga to second-guess himself again and neither would Miyuki-san.

“Maybe you should act like it then.”

“Like you’re my parents?”

“Yes.”

Hyouga swallows down again and when he sees her turning around to pass him by, Hyouga kicks the words out of his mouth and says simply, “Maybe you should act like it, too, Mom.”

His mother slams the door shut with so much force that Hyouga flinches and his backpack falls down from the bed.

* * *

“Oh, that reminds me,” Kou speaks up one day at lunch while Hyouga stuffs his mouth full with rice, trying to forget about his mother’s behavior, “We never really exchanged numbers, did we?”

Hyouga pauses his chewing, then swallows slowly, “We didn’t.”

Kou beams at him, “We should, then.”

“We barely know each other,” Hyouga lamely offers.

Her smile never wavers, “That’s why we should have each other’s numbers. So we can get to know each other.”

So Hyouga does give her the number, tells her out of social obligation that she’s free to text him whenever, and it’s only later that day, when he’s changing back from his uniform after practice, that he remembers.

His phone is still not fixed.

And it’s not likely to get fixed with his parents not wanting to speak to Hyouga and Hyouga himself spent his last change on buying himself new jacket. If Kou was to call him, it’d be super awkward for her to find out he actually doesn’t have a phone. At least, not a fully functioning one.

So his good mood disappears as fast as it appeared and he slumps his shoulders.

“Damnit,” he whispers to himself, shutting the locker.

He doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to Fubuki-senpai like he always does – he just straight up goes home and spends hours looking for some change.

* * *

He doesn’t find the money – not under his bed, not under the desk and certainly not in his wallet. It manages to bring Hyouga down even more so he resorts to drastic methods.

And goes around the neighborhood asking if they need some help in exchange for small change. He already did it before, so what’s the harm asking again? It goes as well as expected – no one needs a fourteen year old kid to do their jobs. Or at least, that’s what he’s been told at every doorstep.

He could ask his parents, but then again, it would probably end up with an answer like this:

_“So now we’re your parents? You only talk to us when you need something!”_

And Hyouga doesn’t have the strength to deal with that, either. So he quits that and resigns himself to just telling Kou the truth.

And he’s THIS close to actually doing that, when Fubuki-senpai calls him over when the practice ends. Hyouga spends a minute looking at Kou’s back as she goes to pick her own things from the club room before he finally moves with a sigh. Once they’re inside the small room the team has taken liking to calling the ‘Coach’s lounge’, Hyouga throws himself at the chair and tenses up when Fubuki-senpai takes his seat ON the desk, instead of sitting behind it.

And then, the man looks at him.

Hyouga gulps, “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

The serious expression on Fubuki-senpai’s face breaks into an amused frown, “I wasn’t going to say that,” he reassures.

“Oh,” Hyouga relaxes slightly, “Okay.”

But then, “But don’t think you’re off the hook, either,” Hyouga picks on his nails, “Something’s up, isn’t it?”

“No?” Hyouga looks away the side, taking sudden interest in the sunflower (where did Fubuki-senpai even get one of those?) on the desk, “Why would something be up?”

Because there’s nothing to talk about, because Hyouga’s problems are his own and he won’t always have Fubuki-senpai by his side. He knows the man cares, cares enough to stand by Hyouga’s side no matter what and support him, but a little devil in Hyouga’s soul always whispers that it’s not enough, that _Hyouga_ is not enough and sooner or later, Fubuki-senpai will see right through it.

So Hyouga doesn’t want to cut his time short and he knows from experience – the more you complain, the less people like you.

But Fubuki-senpai has that look in his eyes again and it’s like he’s angry, except Hyouga knows for sure that he’s not, and he says, “Maybe if you’d actually look me in the eye, I’d believe that.”

Hyouga coughs, “That flower is very pretty,” he comments suddenly.

Fubuki-senpai doesn’t even glance at the sunflower, “It sure is. Want to tell me what’s bothering you, then?”

“But—“

“No more lying, Hyouga,” Fubuki-senpai cuts off another protest, “We agreed to not hide.”

Hyouga’s mouth snaps shut and there’s a pang in his chest, because once again he’s reminded of the fact that no other adult ever cared that much, that Hyouga has someone to lean on if he’d only look around and see it.

But it has never been that easy. There’s always that little whisper of ‘what if they hate you?’ around.

Fubuki-senpai doesn’t let him shut himself out. He’s just there.

And maybe, Hyouga’s just tired of fighting this alone.

“I gave Kou my number,” he admits after a long time of hesitating and when Fubuki-senpai raises an eyebrow, Hyouga hastily adds, “And she did, too! Just to, uh, get to know each other… better?”

“Are you telling me that or asking?”

“Telling.” Hyouga corrects, then in a quiet voice, “But my phone is still broken.”

In an instant, Fubuki-senpai’s expression hardens and he sits up straighter, “It’s been months now, Hyouga.”

Hyouga shrugs.

“I know.”

“Why isn’t it fixed yet then?”

Hyouga bites his lip and shakes his head. A mute sign of saying he doesn’t want to tell or that he just doesn’t know.

That’s a lie. They both know it.

Hyouga is aware of the very fact why his phone isn’t fixed yet, the conditions for that to happen were after all, that Hyouga has to quit soccer which he hasn’t done. Now he’s paying for that.

Maybe he should have used the money he spent for the jacket to fix it? It hasn’t been long since then, maybe he can still return it?

Maybe—

“If you give me your phone, I know someone who can help,” Fubuki-senpai cuts through Hyouga’s overthinking again, “You’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Hyouga gapes.

Then reality catches up to him.

“But, I—“ Fubuki-senpai glances at his watch, “I don’t have any money left.”

“If we hurry, we might catch him before he leaves,” Fubuki-senpai says, totally ignoring Hyouga’s last comment, “Alright. Go change. I will wait for you at the gate.”

“But—!” Hyouga starts, but Fubuki-senpai is already out of the door and he only glances at Hyouga to raise an eyebrow.

“Is something wrong, Hyouga?”

Hyouga opens his mouth to say that yes, something IS wrong, because Fubuki-senpai is already doing enough for him, but words don’t want to come out of his throat so he just shakes his head.

It’s not like Fubuki-senpai would take a ‘no’ for an answer either.

* * *

“I will pick it up and give it to you when it’s fixed,” Fubuki-senpai says when they exit the shop and head over to the car. Hyouga only nods, too stuck in thinking how much it will cost and how much time Fubuki-senpai just wasted to make sure Hyouga has a functioning phone.

It’s that moment when Fubuki-senpai turns to look at him, a little worried, that Hyouga realizes he’s been walking really slow.

“Okay,” Hyouga says in answer to that, but Fubuki-senpai picks on the hesitance almost immediately.

“Something is still bothering you,” he states and Hyouga looks away, passing him by to the car’s passenger’s side, “Hyouga…”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts.

Fubuki-senpai’s eyes darken.

“It’s clearly not if it’s upsetting you.”

Hyouga grits his teeth, “I said it’s fine, so it’s fine.”

“I think our definitions of that word are different,” Fubuki-senpai says as he slides into the driver’s seat, “But have it your way.”

Hyouga opens his mouth to say, because Fubuki-senpai is already doing so much, already going out of his way to help him, and here is Hyouga being moody and ungrateful, but something is stuck in his throat and he knows that if he does speak, he will most likely sob it out. And Hyouga’s not that pathetic to do that in front of someone like Fubuki-senpai so he snaps his mouth shut and turns his head away.

Despite the man never saying he’s mad, Hyouga sees the white knuckles on the steering wheel and the barely-there but still there a crease between his eyebrows that betrays the man’s feelings. Hyouga tries to not focus on that and he swallows the bitterness in his mouth and stays quiet.

* * *

Hyouga has nightmares. Daily. That’s why he can’t sleep and that’s why he usually naps at Fubuki-senpai’s place and somehow gets by. That’s why he keeps showing up with dark circles under his eyes and why looking at soccer ball sometimes feels like a chore.

Kou always knows when it’s a really bad day, because Hyouga usually stumbles in with empty look and shaky hands and he can’t get himself to eat. So far, it’s only been a few times – all of them while Fubuki-senpai didn’t see him.

His luck runs out very quickly.

It’s not like the nightmares were scary back then – not like the place they were happening ever crossed Hyouga’s mind as scary, at the beginning. Because at first it was a place for Hyouga to get stronger, to get his revenge. There was no time for fear; he was willing to do anything.

It’s after all those feelings dimmed a little that he started feeling terrified.

Because it wasn’t normal. The things that happened there. At God’s Eden.

Hyouga usually doesn’t dwell at what he did there either, the memories are blurry and hazy, as if being there was a dream. What’s left is the sickness whenever he’s in a too small room, whenever someone shouts too loud, whenever someone mentions going over their limit – those small details stay with Hyouga when he tries to sleep.

And he tries. To sleep. But unless there’s someone near Hyouga can’t relax, his mind keeps going to that dark place.

He’s used to dealing with it alone; even when he stumbles at practice, even when he flinches away from the ball if he’s not careful enough – _it’s all fine_, he tells himself, _you love soccer_. But sometimes love isn’t enough, sometimes even things you love can hurt you.

Kou keeps giving him looks. Finally, Hyouga gives up. The second he does, Fubuki-senpai pulls him aside, has him sit on the bench and watch the rest of practice in silence. Hyouga doesn’t even try to protest, maybe that’s why no one even bothers asking if he’s okay.

Because he isn’t. Okay, that is. There’s a pounding headache, shaky and sweaty hands and the world is too loud for Hyouga to deal with, so he closes his eyes and hopes for the best. When the practice ends, he sluggishly changes into his uniform, slings his bag over his shoulder. And then waits.

As expected, Fubuki-senpai comes to him not so long after that, a frown on his face. Behind them, Itetsuki-san shoots Hyouga a look and Hyouga stares at him so long the boy apparently uses that as an excuse to come over and whack Hyouga over the head.

Hyouga blinks and says, “Ow.”

Itetsuki-san glares at him, “Get some sleep, will ya?” and he’s on his way out. Hyouga doesn’t even react to this, far too used to the boy’s habits of making sure people are actually taking care of themselves. Recently, it’s Hyouga that has to endure his mother-hen tendencies.

Fubuki-senpai watches Itetsuki-san go with a raised eyebrow, before he goes over Hyouga with critical eye, “You know, some sleep would do you good.”

Hyouga cracks a smile, “Sleep is for the dead, Fubuki-senpai.”

“You might as well be, with how you look,” Fubuki-senpai replies and _woah, the coach is really being savage today_, he thinks before shrugging, and then Fubuki-senpai continues. “And Nana misses you.”

Hyouga smiles.

“I miss her, too.”

_Nothing ever changes, huh?_

* * *

When Hyouga wakes up it’s quiet but panicked, sweat rolling down his face and tears sliding down his cheeks even though he’s not crying and he doesn’t remember the details of the dream he had other than the fact that it was terrifying. He gasps for air, blanket falling down onto the floor and he takes his time looking around the dark room, eyes stopping only when he sees Nana perched on the headrest of the guest bed Fubuki-senpai set him up.

He unclenches his hands, watches as they shakily raise as if it wasn’t him that moved them and gently stroke the cat’s fur. Nana blinks at him, slowly. Hyouga breathes but he’s too afraid to go back to sleep so they sit like this in silence. One look at the clock tells him it’s only little past three AM and even though he notified his parents that he’s staying over, the hour still makes something twist inside of him.

Finally, he retracts his hand and falls back on the pillows. Nana stares at him for a moment before she jumps down and disappears from the room. Hyouga doesn’t want to get up.

In fact, Hyouga doesn’t want to do anything. He feels sticky and dirty. There’s a sudden thought that he’s going to have to wash the sheets now, too. He wouldn’t want to impose on Fubuki-senpai even more than he has to.

He sits back up and sighs, running a hand down his face and then fisting his fingers into his hair, “Damn it,” he whispers, eyes shut tight, “Why does this keep happening?”

“What does?” a voice asks sleepily from the threshold and Hyouga snaps his head up, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Fubuki-senpai rubs the sleep away from his eyes and steps into the room, “so? What’s wrong?”

“Nana woke me up,” Hyouga lies.

Fubuki-senpai smiles but there’s no humor in it, “Is that so?”

Hyouga tries not to look away and he sends a sheepish smile Fubuki-senpai’s way, hand coming up to rub his neck and he shrugs, “yeah,” he laughs awkwardly, “I think she gets lonely.”

“You know, Hyouga, I don’t peculiarly like being lied to.”

Hyouga stills.

“I’m—“ he swallows down, “I’m not lying.”

The smile on Fubuki-senpai’s face stays the same – pleasantly cold and fake – and he nods his head at Hyouga, “You always do that with your hand when you lie,” he says and Hyouga feels sick at being that transparent, “and you don’t look me in the eye.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Fubuki-senpai stares at him hard, before his smile drops and he crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed, close enough that Hyouga doesn’t have to strain his eyes to see him but far enough to give Hyouga his own space.

“I don’t want apologies from you,” he says, “I want to know what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Hyouga whispers, hunching his shoulders, “I don’t think it even can get fixed.”

“You won’t know until you try.”

“Yes, but—“ Hyouga cuts himself off, feeling small, “But it’s not. It’s—it’s my own—“

“Burden?” Fubuki-senpai finishes when Hyouga trails off.

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help. Sometimes, we need someone to listen; other times it’s perfectly fine to back down and let and adult handle it. That’s just how it is, Hyouga.” When Hyouga doesn’t answer, Fubuki-senpai peers at him, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

Something snaps inside of Hyouga, the string that was stretched out to the point of breaking and he takes a shaky breath, fingers curling into the material of his shirt, “I know.”

And the thing is – he really does know, because Fubuki Shirou – the one Hyouga got to know outside of cameras and videos from internet – wasn’t someone who would just leave Hyouga to deal on his own, he’d be there watching Hyouga try to figure it out on himself but he wouldn’t leave.

He’s there.

He’s there and it means more than anything else in his life.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits quietly.

Fubuki-senpai’s eyes lit up with something, pride maybe, and he takes the blanket from the floor, dusts it off and wraps it around Hyouga’s – barely but still – shaking shoulders, “You haven’t been sleeping lately,” he prompts gently.

Hyouga’s nails dig into the skin of his wrists at the same moment Nana jumps back on the bed with a purr, laying down onto his arm. Hyouga freezes at that movement but relaxes when his hands find their way into her fur again.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” he says but words feel heavy on his tongue and his eyes sting when he tries to not remember any details, “About. About that one place.”

“What place?”

Hyouga opens his mouth and closes it a couple times. His throat is tight and his breath hitches. The images of dark rooms, whispered pleads of not so lucky kids in the cells begging to be let out come rushing in. There’s an ache on Hyouga’s hands, a faint reminder that punishments weren’t so rare for him, that his father often liked to beat him with a ruler too, but never like this. Never like there where you were pushed over your limits too fast, too rough and it mentally gave you a scar you can never forget.

Fubuki-senpai doesn’t try to push, but he doesn’t hush him either. Hyouga wants to reach out to him, ask for something, anything to hold on, but he can’t get the words out. He settles for staring at Nana desperately while the cat herself meows at him questioningly.

“Eden,” he manages to choke out.

Fubuki-senpai’s expression darkens, “God’s Eden?”

Hyouga only nods.

“What about it?”

“It’s just—“ Hyouga’s throat is dry and he tries clearing it by coughing, “It’s just that the stuff that happened there, it…” he trails off.

Hyouga doesn’t like to dwell on it, he never did. Not when he tried to get revenge on Fubuki-senpai, not when he actually joined the Fifth Sector. It’s true that it was Hyouga that told Fubuki-senpai about God’s Eden existence in the first place, but there’s a difference between saying it exists somewhere and telling someone what stuff happened there to you personally.

And he remembers that one time, after the Holy Road match. When he told Fubuki-senpai about it, the man’s eyes darkened to the point of black in hidden fury he tried to cover up with a hand on Hyouga’s shoulder and a reassuring smile. There was anger underneath the calm posture – something Hyouga can see even now after God’s Eden shut down.

It’s nice to know someone cares so much, but it’s also weighting down on Hyouga. Fubuki-senpai shouldn’t feel this way over Hyouga’s misplaced trust and suffering.

“It wasn’t good,” Hyouga finishes after a minute of consideration, chest still tight, “I know I said I was fine, back then. I still am, it’s just that it’s different. When I go to sleep. I got used to how things were at—_there,”_ he gulps down and shakes his head, “It just doesn’t feel safe to sleep now.”

“You slept just fine when you came back,” Fubuki-senpai points out.

Hyouga shrugs, “I think it just didn’t set in back then. And then my parents,” he takes a deep breath, hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket, “well. You know what happened with my parents, senpai.”

Fubuki-senpai for his part, doesn’t say much to that although Hyouga knows he wants to. Instead, he waits on Hyouga to speak again.

“It was terrible,” he finally admits in a small voice and with a duck of his head so he doesn’t have to see Fubuki-senpai’s face and expression at Hyouga showing weakness, “I endured it because I wanted to get back at you, but it was really bad. I was lucky.”

There’s a beat of silence, then the man looks away from him and hums, “It was. And it wasn’t fair to you.”

Hyouga snorts, “I deserved it. I wanted this. I wanted to get stronger and—“

“If you’d known what they did to kids, back then, would you still join?”

Hyouga smiles bitterly, “I probably would have. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Fubuki-senpai ignores that comment, “You didn’t know, Hyouga. And you didn’t deserve it,” when Hyouga opens his mouth to protest, Fubuki-senpai raises his palm to stop him, “No. You don’t get to judge whether you deserved to be hurt or not. No one has the right to do that, Hyouga. Not me, not your parents, not Fifth Sector.”

The room is quiet as Hyouga lets out a shaky breath, “Still.”

“You’re a good kid,” Fubuki-senpai’s voice softens but is still firm enough that Hyouga doesn’t try to cut in, “who felt betrayed and alone and you did what you thought would help you, even if it was a bad choice it still doesn’t mean you deserved to suffer through that.”

Hyouga sniffs, “Yeah,” he rasps out, tiredness keeping him from arguing further, “Okay.”

Nana meows from her place on Hyouga’s arm and she pushes her hand into his own. He smiles weakly at her, while Fubuki-senpai raises an eyebrow at her, “To think she’d be the one telling me to get up, huh?”

Hyouga blinks, “What?”

Fubuki-senpai shakes his head, but then his look catches on Hyouga’s slightly shivering form and he clicks his tongue, “I really wish you’d come to me sooner about this, though.”

“Sorry,” says Hyouga, but he doesn’t feel sorry at all and when Fubuki-senpai flips the light switch on Hyouga has to squint his eyes and look away, “Ouch.”

“That’s for lying.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Sure,” Fubuki-senpai agrees easily but Hyouga knows better than to believe him, “Now get up. I will run a bath for you.”

“It’s too late—“

“It’s not a school day, I will let you sleep in.”

But Hyouga doesn’t move, and he doesn’t know if it’s still the fear talking or the instinct to reject any form of help. His limbs feel heavy as he tries to understand why; it’s so late, Fubuki-senpai is surely tired and there’s no reason for Hyouga to take a bath now. Unless the man is worried about the sheets?

He doesn’t understand. He wonders if he ever will.

Seeing that Hyouga isn’t moving, Fubuki-senpai pauses on the threshold, “What’s the matter?”

Despite wanting to find better wording, Hyouga blurts the question out, “Why are you doing this, Fubuki-senpai?”

When no answers come and the man stares at him like the question itself is stupid, Hyouga stops petting Nana and narrows his eyes, “You don’t—you don’t have a reason to. You’re not—“

_‘You’re not my parent’._

_‘Sometimes I wish I was’. _

The words ring in his mind as he cuts himself off once again, conflicted.

“Because I know what it’s like to be alone and I don’t wish that upon anyone,” Fubuki-senpai says simply and Hyouga is stunned into silence once again, “Now get up. You’ll feel better after a nice bath.”

* * *

He does feel better after a bath, but despite the mood improvement Hyouga is hesitant to go back to bed and when he changes into clean clothes and sees the changed sheets – Fubuki-senpai probably did it when he bathed – he doesn’t even try them out. Instead, he hangs back and goes back into the kitchen and almost walks into the wall when Nana decides to rub herself onto his legs.

He sighs at her and kneels down to pet her, “What are you even doing, waking Fubuki-senpai because of me, huh?”

Nana pauses her rubbing and blinks at him, then meows, does a little circle and walks up to the door by the corridor – Fubuki-senpai’s bedroom where the dim light shines through the crack – and meows louder as if calling for him.

Hyouga tries to hush her, standing up and reaching out a hand to sweep her off the floor when the door opens further and Fubuki-senpai appears in the doorstep with a mug in one hand and a textbook in another. He doesn’t look sleepy at all and Hyouga wonders if it’s his fault.

“Are you hungry, Nana?” he asks the cat although his smile is directed at Hyouga when he sees him in the corridor with wet hair, “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Hyouga shifts from one leg to another, “Sorry for the trouble,” he adds after a moment.

“It’s not a trouble,” Fubuki-senpai waves his hand, but Hyouga doesn’t believe him at all, “So? Do you need something?”

Nana meows again.

Hyouga glares at her, then to Fubuki-senpai, “No. I was just getting myself a glass of water.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

But neither Hyouga nor Fubuki-senpai move from their spots, so after a minute of awkwardly staring at the man, Hyouga sighs, “I lied.”

Fubuki-senpai smiles knowingly, “I know. I was waiting for you to admit it.”

Hyouga narrows his eyes, but the man shrugs, so finally he resigns himself for the fact that Fubuki Shirou is a little shit and his shoulders slump, “I’m fine, though.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well—“

“You don’t want to go back to sleep, do you?” Hyouga looks away from him and Fubuki-senpai’s face twists into a frown, “You can’t keep doing that, Hyouga. You need to rest.”

“I know.”

Nana hisses at him and in a graceful move only she could manage to make she climbs onto him and rubs her head furiously against his cheek. Hyouga breathes out shakily and brings his hand up to let her sniff at it.

“I know,” Hyouga repeats, voice cracking. He can feel himself shaking, even as he tries to hide it and pretend that it’s no big deal.

There’s a sound of mug being placed on a counter in the kitchen and Hyouga realizes that Fubuki-senpai moved from his spot and is now taking out another cup. Hyouga furiously wipes stray tears away. Nana resumes her angry hissing at him and nips at his ear. Hyouga lets out a quiet ‘ouch’ at the same moment Fubuki-senpai tells him to go sit in the living room. Hyouga goes without a word.

Then, a towel is thrown onto his head and rubbed gently into his hair. Hyouga blinks slowly at Fubuki-senpai sitting next to him, but closes his eyes soon after it’s apparent that the man is not going to say anything anytime soon. By the time he finishes, Hyouga is dozing off a little on the headrest.

At last, Fubuki-senpai speaks, “Atsuya was always hard to put to sleep.”

Hyouga opens his eyes and looks at him, uncertain, “Your brother, senpai?”

Fubuki-senpai nods, places the towel on the table behind him and gives Hyouga a red mug with steaming tea, “He was this ball of energy, running around the house, kicking the ball. By the time it was time to sleep he always whined that it’s a waste of time,” he smiles sadly, “I missed that a lot. After the accident. The house became so quiet and empty without his constant complaining.”

Wanting to wipe away the sadness on Fubuki-senpai’s face, Hyouga whispers, “Just because someone is—someone is dead it doesn’t mean they’re gone.” Fubuki-senpai stares at him, and feeling stupid and embarrassed, Hyouga hurries to explain, “Because—Because your brother is still here,” he points to his heart, blush creeping in, because maybe Fubuki-senpai doesn’t really need to be comforted, does he? “Right? Even if he’s not here anymore, he never really left.”

_That makes no sense,_ Hyouga thinks, desperately as he fights to not look away.

When the silence continues and becomes more awkward for Hyouga, he adds in, “It probably doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s dead and that you’d rather if he were here, but I think, I think your brother is in a better place now. And that he’s watching over you.”

Finally, Fubuki-senpai hums to himself, “You two are really similar, huh?”

Hyouga blinks, “Huh?”

“He’d love to have you around, you know?” Fubuki-senpai shakes his head and although he’s not quite happy, the sadness in his eyes dimmed and faded away, “In any case, he was hard to put to sleep so our mom always took him out for a walk. For a really long walk.”

Hyouga shudders, “In the dark?”

“You don’t like to walk in the dark?”

“It’s,”_ scary_, “It’s not my favorite thing.”

“Maybe that’s more of my thing then,” Fubuki-senpai says, “I like looking at the stars. We used to do that with Endou – Raimon’s coach – and Gouenji later on because it helped to clear our minds. I guess it worked for Atsuya that way as well.”

“That’s nice,” Hyouga comments.

“But if that doesn’t work on you, hmm,” Fubuki-senpai leans back on the couch, expression thoughtful, “What should we do, then?”

“You aren’t going to sleep?”

“Not if you aren’t, no.”

“But—“

“That’s my decision to make, Hyouga.”

Hyouga snaps his mouth shut, a little surprised, before he sighs, “Fine.”

“A movie, then?”

“I’m not really in a mood for that, sorry,” Hyouga declines politely and watches as Nana lays herself on Fubuki-senpai’s lap, “You really don’t have to stay up because of me, Fubuki-senpai.”

Instead of ignoring his comment – like he usually does when Hyouga tries to belittle himself and makes assumption without any proof - Fubuki-senpai nods his head and says, “I know.”

“So—“

“I wasn’t awake either way,” Fubuki-senpai cuts him off, “Nana came to me but I wasn’t sleeping. Stop beating yourself over it, okay?”

Sensing the metaphorical danger of the conversation going in the wrong direction, possibly ruining the man’s mood even more, Hyouga curls up on the couch even more and drinks his tea in silence. Fubuki-senpai watches him for a second, eyes following the movement when Nana jumps from one piece of furniture to another, then he sighs, “We could always go and practice for a bit?”

Hyouga perks up before he can stop himself, “Can we, really?”

Fubuki-senpai levels him with an amused look and Hyouga ducks his head a little when the man laughs, “Yes. Really.”

Hesitantly, Hyouga returns the smile.

In a way, it feels like this feeling – the warmth that comes every time Fubuki-senpai makes sure that Hyouga knows he’s not a waste of space – is something Fifth Sector can’t take away.

* * *

Hyouga gets his phone back in the morning – except it’s not _his_ phone, because this model is shiny and brand new and Hyouga’s one was beat up and worn out from use – and instead of taking it like a normal human being he spends his time staring at it and waving his hands around with a distressed noises coming out of his throat.

Fubuki-senpai raises an eyebrow, “It’s got all of your contacts, photos and so on,” he reassures, “Nothing lost.”

“This is too much!”

“It’s just a phone,” Fubuki-senpai retorts and swiftly maneuvers Hyouga’s hand so he’s got it tightly grasped, “Don’t worry about it.”

Hyouga’s arm shakes as he cradles the phone to his chest, as if he was holding the most precious thing in the world, afraid of breaking it. How did Fubuki-senpai expect him use it on a daily basis filled with dangerous sidewalks and traitorous stairs? Wait. Scratch that.

How did Fubuki-senpai expect him to accept it _at all?_

He gazes at the man casually munching on the toast with jam, with distress written all over his face, “This is the newest model,” he whispers, “I know because Itetsuki-san got it for his birthday. He told me.”

“Mhm,” says the man, tone non-committal.

“And—and it’s got all those cool things on it, which is beside the point, _obviously,_ but it’s got all those cool things on it and its battery lasts way more than the usual model—“

“Yep.”

“And,” Hyouga’s voice almost becomes hysterical, “It costs way more than any of my transfers from one school to another school and they cost _a lot.”_

“That’s true,” Fubuki-senpai agrees easily, “Which is why I’m giving it to you because I know you deserve it.”

“This is not the point!” Hyouga exclaims, “You told me you’re going to get my old phone fixed, not buy me a new one, Senpai!”

“I did get it fixed, though,” Fubuki-senpai places a mug of something that smells like Melissa herb on the counter, “But my friend also offered me a new one, so I took it. By half the prize.”

Hyouga is speechless for a moment before he begrudgingly takes the mug and suspiciously eyes the device in his hand, “Who is your friend even?”

“Ah, you probably know him,” he answers dismissingly, “But it’s a secret.”

“Why is a secret?”

“Because if I tell you, you’re going to become really, really angry.”

Hyouga narrows his eyes, “Fubuki-senpai. Who gave it to you?”

Fubuki-senpai turns around, “It might have been… Gouenji Shuuya?”

“Senpai! Why did you accept anything from him!?”

“See?” Fubuki-senpai turns around, pointing a finger at him while he slings a towel on his shoulder, “I knew you’d get angry.”

“I wonder why,” Hyouga mutters out under his breath, glaring at the phone in his hand, “I hate him.”

There’s a pause as Fubuki-senpai sighs, but his eyes soften and he sits down on the kitchen counter across Hyouga, “I know.”

“I never want to see him.”

Another quiet answer, “I know, Hyouga.”

“He’s terrible.”

“He was doing this to save soccer,” Fubuki-senpai says with a patience of a man who didn’t have this conversation multiple times already, but he doesn’t really try to convince Hyouga to be nicer about his opinion, “I know it doesn’t hurt any less, and you have every right to despise him for what he did, but he’s trying to make it up to you.”

Gouenji Shuuya – aka the former Holy Emperor under the name of Ishido Shuuji – friend of Fubuki Shirou and an ex-member of the legendary Inazuma Eleven. And recently – also a name on Hyouga’s black list.

It might be petty, might be silly and childish to hate someone who tried their best to fix something others broke, but Hyouga knows of God’s Eden, knows of the way Fifth Sector brainwashed kids and made them suffer and he knows that even if Gouenji Shuuya wasn’t entirely behind it, he had a way to stop it.

“I don’t care,” Hyouga crosses his arms, “I don’t want anything from that person.”

Fubuki-senpai sighs again, but a fond expression finds its way onto his face, “You must really hate him, huh?”

“Yes,” Hyouga stresses the word and Fubuki-senpai smiles instead of taking offense to it, probably treating it like a kid’s dislike more than a genuine hatred, “You can tell him that.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“Good.” Hyouga says and then busies himself with his tea.

“Good,” Fubuki-senpai echoes, “But I still would like you to take the phone.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I went through all that trouble to get you it,” Fubuki-senpai pouts, voice dragged out into uncharacteristic whine, “And you won’t even see those cool things that are on it?”

Hyouga looks over his mug with a suspicious glare at the man innocently smiling at him and grits his teeth, “I could check.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“But I won’t thank that man.”

A laugh, then, “We don’t expect that from you, don’t worry.”

Hyouga nods, glances at the phone in question and internally decides to give Gouenji Shuuya a piece of his mind if he sees him again. Then, a thought catches up with him and Hyouga almost drops the mug.

Fubuki-senpai disappeared somewhere in the living room, humming something to himself, but Hyouga still stares at the place where he was sitting not long ago.

Because if the friend he was talking about was really THE Gouenji Shuuya then how did they even meet when Fubuki-senpai is in Hokkaido and Gouenji should be—

“What the—“ he starts to say to himself when Fubuki-senpai peeks into the kitchen.

“Hyouga?”

“—duck,” Hyouga finishes, “The ducks are cute.”

Fubuki-senpai blinks, “…okay?”

“And I need to get home,” he continues, suddenly getting up, “because uh. I got homework.”

“Homework,” the man repeats slowly, eyes narrowing.

Hyouga gulps, takes his things and hides the phone into his bag while practically dashing to the door, “Thanks for having me!”

When the door closes, Fubuki-senpai lets out a quiet and confused “huh” and goes back into the living room, but not without a suspicious glance at the door.

* * *

“I don’t want to be the one to tell you this, but Yukimura-kun, you’re kind of freaking out over nothing.”

“I don’t want to you to tell me I’m freaking out, because I know I am, I just want to know if I’m freaking out over the right thing.”

Kou blinks, “That makes no sense.”

“So does Gouenji Shuuya, apparently.”

“What do you have—“ Hyouga glares at her over his bowl of rice and she cuts herself off, “Alright, I understand. But don’t you think you’re overly paranoid?”

“We’re in Hokkaido!”

“Maybe he’s here on a visit then?” Kou takes a sip of her water, “Coach Fubuki is his friend.”

“What if—“ Hyouga swallows down hard, “What if they’re more than friends?” he asks, more embarrassed by voicing those thoughts out loud than actually sitting in front of Kou, no less, and speaking while angrily chewing on rice.

Kou stares at him, before she shakes her head, “There’s no…way…right?” she coughs, “I mean. It could be…?” Hyouga looks up panicked and she backtracks, “I’m just saying it’s possible!”

“What if it is?”

Kou blinks, “Is that going to be problem?”

“Not a problem!” Hyouga hisses out hotly, “Just—“

“The idea of Gouenji Shuuya, former Holy Emperor and Coach’s long time best friend, dating our Fubuki Shirou and probably your only valid role model, bothers you,” Kou finishes.

Hyouga groans and bangs his head on the table, “Why are you so calm about it?” then, the rest of the sentence catches up with him, “Wait, a role model? Fubuki-senpai isn’t—“

“Because it wouldn’t be that weird, you know?” Kou shrugs, ignoring his last bit, “And I think Coach deserves someone who cares for him. Don’t you want him to be happy?”

Hyouga opens one eye at her and mutters out, “Yeah.”

“Then you shouldn’t get worked up over this,” Kou decides, then she reaches out her hand at Hyouga and makes a grabby gesture, “Now, show me that phone. Itetsuki-kun doesn’t let anyone touch his and I’ve been dying to know what this model has to offer.”

Hyouga sighs, but hands the device over.

* * *

“Why is that man visiting?”

“To annoy you.”

Hyouga waits a minute for a better reply, but Kou only levels him with an unimpressed look that says it’s all he’s going to get for the day. Resigned, Hyouga crosses his arms and watches as the team whispers among themselves. The news that Hyouga’s personal nightmare is coming to Hakuren spreading like wildfire among the students.

And Hyouga, for the love of everything that’s holy, doesn’t understand why now, of all things, that man decided to go sightseeing to Hokkaido.

Then again, did the news only just found out about him being here, despite the fact that Gouenji Shuuya could be there for far longer than the media lets on?

“I think I’m just going to stay home tomorrow,” Hyouga declares.

Itetsuki-san passing by them gives them weird looks, but instead of ignoring them like usual, he hangs back and wraps his arm around Hyouga’s shoulder. Kou looks at that gesture far longer than she usually does, but Hyouga ignores that in favor of glaring at the boy.

“So I heard our local ‘hottest striker of the North’ doesn’t like the legendary Flame Striker,” Itetsuki-san starts and Hyouga’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to kick a soccerball at him, because goddamn, why can’t everyone forget that stupid, newspaper nickname? “Care to explain why?”

Kou sighs like she’s heard it all before, but Hyouga still says through gritted teeth, “Aside from the whole God’s Eden fiasco and being Fifth Sector’s dog?”

Itetsuki-san’s eyes flash and he grins, “Takes one to know one, Yukimura. Didn’t you become a Seed?”

“Shut up.”

“Just saying,” he lets him go and steps away, arms crossed loosely behind his head. Hyouga envies him the way he can just let himself relax, “You can’t really blame the guy. He did work for our cause in the end.”

“Sure,” Hyouga mutters out, “After not doing a damn thing for the kids stuck at the Eden.”

Itetsuki-san pauses, then, “What even did happen there?”

Hyouga tenses up but before he can explain, Fubuki-senpai calls out to them and beckons them to come closer. Itetsuki hesitates, still looking at Hyouga, “Yukimura? Why do you really hate him?”

Kou looks confused, but Hyouga himself looks away and hurries to line up with the rest of the team. They don’t speak much after that.

* * *

“Invite that coach of yours for a dinner,” Hyouga’s mother commands that day when he comes back home and Hyouga has to double check who’s speaking to him before he realizes that no, he’s not dreaming.

“Why?”

His mother’s face never changes nowadays – it’s blank or angry, there’s no in between. But this time, Hyouga sees the way her eyes are running all over the place as if looking anywhere but at Hyouga and he hopes, he wishes, like he always did before, that maybe she changed her mind.

Then, “We want to meet him,” and the tone of voice she used on Hyouga makes him think that yeah, no. She doesn’t want to be better. Hyouga knows she’s planning on something but he doesn’t have the mind to figure it out.

“Why?” he repeats but when she throws him a look, he looks away, grabs his food and says over his shoulder, “I’ll ask.”

It’s not like Fubuki-senpai will agree anyway, not when his best friend slash potential lover (Hyouga still dreads the last one) is in town.

* * *

Hyouga skips the practice, avoids looking Itetsuki-san in the eye when he passes him in hallway and hides on the roof when it’s lunch time and by the end of the day he exits the building with a sense of guilt and a satisfaction that not even Kou managed to find him.

However, luck is not on Hyouga’s side.

It probably never was, but the point is – today is The dreaded day.

He skips the morning practice and when the afternoon practice begins, he skips that too. When the soccer team members get out of the gym, Hyouga sneaks in and quickly finds the lounge, gulping down as he sees the lights still on and hopes, really hopes that—

The door opens the second he knocks twice and he stumbles back, fixing the bag strap so the bag doesn’t fall down on the floor and immediately curses himself.

“Oh,” slips out of the man’s mouth, and Hyouga restrains himself, really restrains himself and smiles politely, “Hello there.”

“Sir,” he greets out and backtracks, because it’s still early and besides, the dinner at Hyouga’s place really sounds like a terrible idea his mother thought of to start a fight, “I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I will just go—“

Fubuki-senpai peeks over the man’s shoulder and Hyouga holds himself back from glaring when the man grins, “Hyouga. Nice of you to join us after all.”

“I was busy.”

“Yes, of course,” Fubuki-senpai nods, serious but it’s clear he doesn’t believe him, “You’ve met Gouenji already, right?"

”Briefly,” Hyouga admits, then makes a show of looking at the clock in the back of the room, “I forgot the time. I will just come back tomorrow.”

Before he can move, though, Gouenji Shuuya’s eyes zero on the way he’s gripping the bag’s strap and he tilts his head at him, “Did you need something from Fubuki?”

“_Nope_,” Hyouga stresses the word out.

Fubuki-senpai frowns, “It did look like that, now that I think of it. You don’t seek me out after practice when it’s a week day.”

Hyouga smiles tightly, “It can wait.”

“Or you could just—“ he starts to say when Hyouga’s phone rings and Hyouga mentally grimaces when he realizes it’s probably his mother. He ignores it in favor of stepping back, eyes not even acknowledging the man next to Fubuki-senpai, “Who’s that?”

“My mom,” Hyouga answers automatically.

Fubuki-senpai’s eyes narrow, “What does she want?”

Hyouga averts his eyes, “Nothing?”

“Hyouga?”

Wanting it to be over, Hyouga just closes his eyes and mutters out, “She wants you to come over for dinner.”

There’s stunned silence from Fubuki-senpai, but Gouenji ( Does he even deserve a –san? How does Hyouga even refer to him?) looks between them with a slight amusement, “Your mother wants Fubuki over?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, “Yeah.”

Fubuki-senpai finally snaps out of the shock and leans against the door, “Why?”

There’s something in Hyouga’s throat and he curses himself again, because he promised himself not to get emotional over his parents again, he told himself it’s fine as long as he keeps standing up to himself because they’re not being violent – they’re just neglectful or full on ignoring him. There’s no need for Hyouga to get upset over a dinner.

But here’s the thing.

Once. When he was stupid and young and naïve, he imagined a dinner like this. But not in a way his mother is probably thinking. And it hurts in a way Hyouga can’t describe.

He finally takes a shaky breath and shrugs, opening his eyes, “Don’t know. You can just,” he swallows around the bump in his throat, “say no, Senpai. I will let them know, so it’s okay—”

“We’ll go.”

“Huh.”

_Wait_.

Fubuki-senpai actually looks back at Gouenji in something akin to surprise, but the man himself gazes back calmly at him, communicating something between them. Hyouga doesn’t pretend to understand what it’s all about, but he does feel something twist in his chest.

Because there is no way someone like Gouenji Shuuya is going to eat dinner at Hyouga’s place.

* * *

Gouenji Shuuya eats dinner at Hyouga’s place, sitting next to Fubuki-senpai himself while Hyouga is seated between his parents, and he doesn’t even look out of place despite his pierced ears and azure highlights he has yet to get rid of.

It’s awkward, too. They talk about mindless things, Hyouga never even once brought into the conversation, only at the table as a background character. His father takes pride in bragging how Hyouga is good at art, how he’s going to go to the professional school once he’s old enough and Hyouga’s mother takes turns in both praising him and criticizing him. It could be worse. It could be better.

Topics always somehow find their way to make Hyouga feel worse and worse by a second.

“Hyouga always struggles to get a mark over B,” his father mentions, “You’d think he’d learn by now that he has to study harder and not be so lazy.”

“Hyouga is extremely dense when it comes to languages,” his mother brings up, ignoring the way Hyouga’s cheeks color red from shame and embarrassment, “His classmate Yoshi is excellent at it though. I keep telling Hyouga to ask him for help but he never does.”

“Hyouga can be very needy, can you believe that? Always nagging us at the wrong moment.”

“He’s bad at maths.”

“His teachers are always saying he’s too quiet.”

“He used to get so much better grades. This soccer thing ruined him.”

When the dinner nears its end, and Hyouga’s is too mortified to even stand up to himself and protest, another topic comes up.

“Hakuren is slowly raising in its ranks, isn’t it?” Hyouga’s father begins as a way of initiating a small talk and Hyouga hates him for that, hates the way they both sit on both sides of him and pretend that they’re good; that they’ve never hurt Hyouga, “Lately, it’s all the newspaper talks about—“

“Along with Fifth Sector being disbanded,” Hyouga’s mother adds.

Hyouga tenses up, “It’s old news by now,” he says carefully.

When he looks up by accident, he sees her eyes. The ice in them, the slow glint at knowing what Fifth Sector did, because it would proof what Hyouga was so adamant to admit – that soccer is bad. Hyouga remembers that she allowed him to go to God’s Eden, knows that she never lifted a finger even though it was a soccer related topic.

Then it hits him.

She knew what Fifth Sector was doing, back then. Did she send him only to—only to—

As if sensing the way Hyouga’s mind halted, Fubuki-senpai slowly looks up from his plate, “We are raising in ranks,” he agrees, slowly as if processing the information, “It’s all thanks to the kids doing their best to improve.”

“Right,” Hyouga’s mother answers, displeased, “What about the Fifth Sector, then?”

“What about it?” Gouenji asks.

Hyouga grips his utensils as she explains, “It was all a scam, wasn’t it? Isn’t it enough proof that soccer only brings trouble?”

“Poor kids went through a lot, too,” Hyouga’s father adds in, all casual like he’s talking about the weather.

_Don’t pretend you care,_ Hyouga thinks, eyes trained on his food.

“It’s true that Fifth Sector only ever brought pain,” Gouenji says, but he doesn’t even flinch away when Hyouga’s mother’s eyes flash dangerously at that. Instead, he rests his head on his hand, “That’s why we fought so long to defy them.”

Fubuki-senpai nods, “It’s all back to normal.”

“I see—“

“That doesn’t change the fact that it troubled a lot of kids,” she presses and Hyouga takes a shaky breath, “In fact, my son himself admitted that, didn’t you?”

Hyouga freezes.

“Right, Hyouga?”

Underneath the table cloth, Hyouga feels her nails dig into the skin of his leg. Slowly, carefully, he lifts his head and turns to look at her. She’s gazing at him in a way that’s always scared him the most – in expression of faked warmth and forced concern. Hyouga can only stare at her.

Fubuki-senpai straightens out, on alert, but Gouenji doesn’t even change his position, “Is that how you always treat him?”

Hyouga holds back a gasp when his mother takes her hand and looks at Gouenji in hidden distain, “Excuse me?”

“Like an object to gloat about to neighbors,” he doesn’t even try to soften those words and Hyouga stiffens, shocked.

“I’m treating him like I always do. He’s my son.”

“You treat him like something that’s only good for one thing,” Gouenji corrects, and Fubuki-senpai blinks, but he doesn’t look surprised, “What was the point of that dinner? Did you want to humiliate him?”

Hyouga’s father narrows his eyes, “I’d watch your tone.”

“The whole time at this dinner you didn’t speak to him even once,” Gouenji continues, unbothered, “You pointed out his flaws, you insulted the thing he loves the most. You only ever spoke to him to belittle him. So I ask again: what was the real purpose of getting Fubuki – his coach and mentor – to come here?”

“We wanted to meet him,” Hyouga’s mother answers, ignoring the previous bits, “You’d want to know the man who changed your child, too. Hyouga always speaks so highly of him.”

“Then you did want to humiliate him by pointing out everything he’s ever done wrong. Right in front of Fubuki.”

“No—“

Gouenji sighs, “Why are you even denying this? No one believes it.”

“You’re forgetting your place.”

Fubuki-senpai finally clears his throat, standing up slowly with a polite smile that hides his angered eyes almost perfectly, “I think it’s time we go on our way.”

“I wasn’t done talking,” Hyouga’s mother says.

“I think I am,” Gouenji shoots back.

And then, the woman huffs, “What was I even hoping for?” then to Hyouga who has long ago ducked his head, “A crazy man and now an uncultured swine. I see why you’ve decided to be against us.”

Fubuki-senpai opens his mouth, Gouenji hot on his heels, when Hyouga stands up so suddenly the chair almost falls over and with his head still down, he grits out, “Take that back.” He demands.

His mother laughs and it’s ugly and wrong and when Hyouga’s father does the same, standing back up, Hyouga clenches his fingers on the table, “I said: _Take that back.”_

“Hyouga, it’s not worth it,” Fubuki-senpai jumps in.

“No, by all means. Go on,” she peers at him, “Mad about me insulting your retarded coach? And his equally stupid friend? Do you think I really care what you think, you ingrate?”

There’s silence. Hyouga can’t look up, shame burning his skin as he tries to make himself look, tries to salvage what is left of his dignity.

“I will see you at school, Fubuki-san, Gouenji-san,” he manages to get out when he finally comes back to himself, “It was pleasure to have you both here.”

No one moves.

“Didn’t you hear him? You can go,” Hyouga’s father dismisses them.

Gouenji takes a step forward, but Fubuki-senpai’s hand shoots forward. Gouenji looks at him with a scowl, but the other only shakes his head. Gouenji stands down, unwillingly, then stiffly nods at Hyouga’s parents, “It was nice to meet you.”

Hyouga trembles on his spot when Fubuki-senpai repeats the same.

When both adults reach the door, Hyouga’s mother snorts with disgust, “I’m revolted. What do you even see in them, Hyouga?”

“Nothing but fancy trash,” Hyouga’s father comments, sitting back down.

“Why did you do this?” he asks in a whisper, “Is it that funny to you?”

“Obviously.”

He hears the door close. Gouenji and Fubuki-senpai left the house.

Hyouga looks up at them, angrily, “So Gouenji-san was right. You wanted Fubuki-senpai to hate me, didn’t you?” voice raising in volume at their silence doesn’t even seem to bother them, “You know I’d never leave the soccer club willingly, so you wanted him to see me as you do. You wanted him to be disgusted.”

“He will see even without our help – that you’re worth nothing more than what you can do with art.”

Hyouga feels tears welling up in his eyes, but he still manages to say, “I’m not worthless.”

Hyouga’s mother shrugs as she turns around, dismissive, “To us, you are now.”

Words always hurt more than physical blows; than any slap his mother could have given him – and they know it, they always knew it and that’s why they only got physical when Hyouga acted out despite the verbal abuse. But this? It hurts. It hurts and Hyouga hates them for it as much as he hates himself for believing them.

He grabs his jacket without a word, his mother blinking at it, before she narrows her eyes, “What are you doing?”

“Going out,” he replies shortly.

They let him be. That hurts, too, but he ignores it in favor of slamming the door shut and he relives in the knowledge that the sound echoes in the house. When the cold air hits his face, he realizes with a pang of shame that his eyes sting.

He’s about to turn around to head in the direction of Miyuki-san’s house when he notices the familiar car still parked in the driveway. He stares at it for a moment – there’s no way he could ask Fubuki-senpai to spend the night again, not after the disaster of a dinner that happened. Then, there’s the fact that Gouenji is there too.

Hyouga shakes his head, makes a sharp turn and head in the opposite direction. Before he realizes it, he’s running. Until his legs hurt; until his lungs burn; until his sight is blurry from tears and he’s gasping for breath.

There are echoes in Hyouga’s head, flashes to his parents’ faces. Setting aside the obvious humiliation, Hyouga can’t get rid of that one, persistent thought.

That his mother knew what was going on behind the Fifth Sector’s closed doors. That she willingly send him there when he asked for permission. He thought, back then, that it was suspicious. But now that he has a living proof that she did it on purpose it makes him downright sick.

He stops when he nears the familiar street with cat café Fubuki-senpai likes to take him to. That means he’s also close to school as well. Wiping his face away and taking a calming breath, Hyouga is about to walk in when someone taps his shoulder.

“Wha—Oh. It’s just you.”

Gouenji raises an eyebrow and Hyouga refuses to give in into the blush that is threatening to take over his face and he stares at him, fierce, “Do you need something, sir?”

“Sir?”

“You’re an old man,” Hyouga explains and then his eyes catch at something on the other side of the street and he frowns, “Fubuki-senpai is here, too. Why?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s a coincidence?”

“Never.”

“Fair point. We followed you,” Gouenji looks at the banner above, “Fubuki was worried.”

“Because of the dinner.”

There’s a pause, then, “Yes.”

“Tell him he doesn’t need to worry—“

“You could tell him yourself,” Gouenji suggests, head nodding to the car behind them and when Hyouga doesn’t move but only crosses his arms, he lets out a soft hum, “Unless you’re afraid you won’t be able to tell him off like you’re doing just now to me.”

Then, because Hyouga is done playing anyone’s games and the weather is cold, grits out, “What’s your point? No, actually. What are you even doing here?” Gouenji opens his mouth, but he cuts him off, “Holy Emperor trying to make amends, huh? Pathetic.”

There’s something in his eyes that tells Hyouga that he’s not pleased to hear Hyouga speak in that tone of voice, “I know you don’t like me—“

“I hate you,” Hyouga rasps out and he’s surprised by how angry he gets, “And I don’t care that you’re Fubuki-senpai’s friend or that you worked for our cause or whatever bullshit you’re trying to give me. I don’t care.”

Gouenji doesn’t back down, “We could go back to Fubuki’s place and I would explain it to you, if that would give you some closure.”

When Gouenji takes a step forwards, Hyouga takes a step back and he hugs himself tighter, the phantom pain of a ruler on his hands making him grip the material of his jacket. Around them, the wind gets stronger.

“I don’t want your explanations,” Hyouga snaps, ignoring the way Gouenji stands far too close for comfort, “I don’t need closure. I just want to be left alone.”

The man looks at him the way Fubuki-senpai sometimes does but his expression doesn’t soften when he sees him shivering like Fubuki-senpai would. And Hyouga realizes that it’s because Gouenji would never let someone push him around – he’s an adult, but he’s not so meek when it comes to a kid, he’s not soft like Fubuki-senpai is with him.

Gouenji knows Yukimura Hyouga, but he doesn’t know who Hyouga actually is.

Oh.

Maybe that’s why he’s able to get so angry despite years spent trying to suppress his feelings. He doesn’t want to impress that man, he doesn’t want him to think the best of him like he does with Fubuki-senpai.

He doesn’t need to be perfect, there’s no need for acting polite.

“I don’t think that’s actually what you want,” Gouenji starts, but Hyouga doesn’t look at him, stuck in his own head, “Come on. It’s going to snow. Fubuki—“

Hyouga’s phone rings. Once. Twice. He ignores it when he sees the ID caller and he stubbornly stays put.

Gouenji narrows his eyes, “I see from who you take from now.”

Hyouga glares, “Just leave me alone.”

“You know Fubuki won’t like that.”

“Fubuki-senpai isn’t my parent,” Gouenji raises an eyebrow at that, “And he’d understand.”

“Not after what your parents said at the dinner, no. He’s worried. Unless he sees for sure that you’re okay, he won’t leave you alone. And you know it,” he adds when Hyouga starts to open his mouth to protest, “because he’s always been like this. He doesn’t nag, but he hovers.” Then he leans forward, “You don’t like it when he’s worried, do you?”

Hyouga grits his teeth, “No.”

“Then you know it won’t hurt to go with us for the rest of the day. It doesn’t look like you have anywhere else to go, either.”

Hyouga sneers at him but before he can decline again a sound of a car horn sounds out in the quiet of their staring contest and Hyouga’s expression softens, if only for a little bit.

“Fine,” he allows, pushing through and knocking his shoulder against Gouenji’s, “But I’m not doing this for you.”

“Of course.”

* * *

Hyouga doesn’t speak when they settle in Fubuki-senpai’s living room, but his tense body relaxes the second he smells the familiar smell of fresh cookies and when Nana jumps into his arms as he sits down on the couch. He smiles down at her, timid.

Fubuki-senpai gives him a plate of coconut cookies and places a cup of hot cocoa on the table in front of him, then sits down with a book, shoulders touching Gouenji’s. Hyouga stares at that gesture for longer than he should and by the look on the blonde’s face, both of them know it as well. He ignores in favor of stroking Nana’s fur, only stopping when he takes another cookie.

“I have to say,” Fubuki-senpai suddenly speaks up, “I didn’t expect that dinner to go this way.”

And Hyouga, because he’s always had self-control of a chicken nugget, replies bitterly, “I told you it would, Senpai.”

The man glances at him for a second, contemplative, before he looks back to his book, “You didn’t have to invite us if you knew, then.”

Hyouga swallows around his dry throat and ignores the pang in his chest, masking his hurt by furiously biting into his cookie, “Yes, but—“

Exactly.

But, what? Did Hyouga actually think his mother didn’t plan for something like this?

Again and again, he hopes for that change in heart, for a sign that his parents aren’t really that bad and again and again he proves himself wrong.

“They’d be angry at me.”

“Perhaps. But you wouldn’t have to sit by and listen to them talking about you in this way,” at that, Fubuki-senpai’s hands tighten on his book, “And neither would I or Gouenji.”

“Sorry.”

Gouenji frowns, “You didn’t plan for this. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he insists, but he’s not looking at him, Nana nipping at his dirty from crust fingers, “fine. They said some things and that wasn’t fair of them. I apologize on behalf of them.”

There’s a beat of silence. Fubuki-senpai doesn’t look like he wants to talk, engrossed either in his book or angry thoughts and Hyouga doesn’t peculiarly want a small talk to happen either, not when he’s at war with himself.

But Gouenji Shuuya is not Fubuki-senpai and apparently, he doesn’t let people wallow in self-pity.

“Seems like it’s not the first time it happened,” Gouenji points out.

Fubuki-senpai glances at him, “In my presence or all together?”

“What’s your point, anyways?” Hyouga asks at the same time.

“I don’t have a point,” Gouenji looks away from Fubuki, positioning himself so he faces Hyouga straight on, arms resting on his knees. Fubuki-senpai shifts so he doesn’t lean so much on him, then continues reading. Like he’s letting him handle it. It irks Hyouga. “I’m just curious.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Hyouga snorts, mocking, “I never did.”

“And yet, you joined Fifth Sector at one point and let yourself be shipped off to Eden.”

Hyouga’s expression is hard and closed off, yet Gouenji remains unaffected, like he’s testing him; pushing his buttons in hopes of. Well. Hyouga doesn’t know that, but there’s anger seething inside of him, curling around his ribcage. It burns.

He swallows it down and narrows his eyes, “Not because I put my faith in you.

Gouenji nods, as if accepting, “Sure. If that’s what you say.”

_Don’t shout, don’t shout. It’s really not worth it._

“It is.”

“So? What’s the deal with them?” Hyouga gives him a weird look, “Your parents?”

Shifting so he’s angled away from him, Hyouga hugs Nana to himself and pretends that she doesn’t mewl at him in slight annoyance. It lasts a minute, but then she relaxes and begins to purr. Her warmth on his chest distracts him from unpleasant memories.

Fubuki-senpai shoots a look to Gouenji, “Don’t push him.”

“It’s not a loaded question,” he retorts.

“It’s a personal one,” Fubuki-senpai insists.

Gouenji raises an eyebrow, “We’ve literally had dinner with them. How more personal can we even get?”

Fubuki-senpai opens his mouth, then shuts it. And again. Hyouga actually doesn’t know the answer to that either, so he resigns himself to glaring at the last piece of cookies.

“It’s none of your business,” he finally hisses out.

“I was insulted by them. I think I deserve to know why.”

There’s a bitter laughter bubbling up in Hyouga’s throat as he looks at Gouenji and says, “Don’t think you’re special – they hate Fubuki-senpai just like they hate everyone involved or related to soccer. You’re not an exception.”

“I’m not,” Gouenji agrees, “but they didn’t know I’d be coming to the dinner, did they?”

“I mentioned there would be a second—“ Hyouga cuts himself off, realizing something and narrowing his eyes, “Don’t trick me into talking about them.”

“I’m really not,” the man says and he raises an eyebrow when Hyouga snorts, unbelieving, “You do want to talk about them, though. Don’t think I don’t see that.”

Fubuki-senpai pauses as he turns the page in his book. Hyouga ignores the fresh wave of anger at that.

“Not with you.” He bites out.

“With Fubuki, then.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Hyouga blurts out and Gouenji finally leans backwards, but not in a way Hyouga was hoping, more like he finally got what he wanted. Fubuki-senpai doesn’t lift his eyes, but he does look like he’s distracted, “What do you know? You’re literally—“

“I know as much about you as you know about me,” Gouenji cuts him off.

“I don’t care!”

Fubuki-senpai twitches. Gouenji glances at him, then back at fuming Hyouga, “I’m not antagonizing you, Yukimura. I’m trying to understand something here.”

Nana jumps off Hyouga’s lap and runs out of the room. Hyouga watches her go, something heavy settling in his chest and he almost forgets Gouenji said something. It’s only when Hyouga realizes he’s standing – must have gotten up somewhere after he yelled at the man – that he looks back to him.

“Why?” He grits out.

“Because I obviously hurt you, in one way or another, and I’d like to make up for it. Because you’re close to Fubuki and seeing you in pain is hard for him. Because I saw the way your parents treat you,” here Gouenji’s voice got harder, “and I don’t think that’s fair.”

Hyouga stays silent.

Fubuki-senpai finally breathes out and says, “I told you it’s not going to work, Gouenji.”

It feels like a slap, even though that’s what Hyouga said from the beginning. He knew he’d never get along with Gouenji, he’d never accept any half-assed apologies that are meant to soothe the man’s ego, and he’d never forgive him.

_Even so,_ Hyouga suddenly thinks, something about his thought process not sitting right with him in the light of recent events_, even so, aren’t I doing basically what dad and mom are doing?_

Unknowing to the inside struggle, Gouenji blinks at Fubuki-senpai, “I think it is. You’re acting like he’s trying to slit my throat open.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try and stab you.”

“With a plastic fork, maybe.” Gouenji levels him with a look, then glances at Hyouga, “Would stabbing me would make you feel better?”

Hyouga doesn’t answer. The air in the room feels suffocating.

Fubuki-senpai turns his head to ask, “Hyouga?”

_They’re always angry,_ Hyouga is thinking, _they’re always disappointed, always trying to make me feel bad, trying to make me sad. Why am I doing the same thing, now?_

That’s not right.

If Gouenji was Hyouga’s mom, he’d long snap at him and slap his face, and then he’d even go as far as to say it was Hyouga’s own fault for being mouthy. And even if Gouenji isn’t like that, a normal adult wouldn’t tolerate Hyouga’s behavior.

So why—

“I hate you,” is what comes out of his mouth anyways and Gouenji doesn’t flinch away, not in a way Fubuki-senpai twitches, as if wanting to say something, “I hate what you did as the Emperor and I hate that you didn’t help the kids at God’s—God’s Eden,” he chokes out somehow, “And I hate that you’re here and that everyone can forgive you just like that and—“

“Hyouga—“ Fubuki-senpai starts, alarmed when Hyouga’s breath hitches.

“—And what I hate the most,” Hyouga clenches his fist, Gouenji’s eyes darkening a little, but he does lean more forward, as if intrigued, “is that you’re trying to make it up to me, of all the kids that were put through worse things, and not them.”

Gouenji stills.

Hyouga’s eyes feel wet again, but he wipes them with a sleeve of his shirt, more angry than anything else, “Why am I so special?” He asks in a broken voice, eyes narrowed, “Why am I getting a brand new phone and—and why are you even here? Do you think you can buy me?”

“That’s now what I want.” Gouenji’s voice is quiet.

“That’s how it looks,” Hyouga snaps and Fubuki-senpai closes his eyes, “That’s how it would look to the kids at the Eden. They’d hate me,” he breathes out, “because while they’d be stuck there, I would be getting a special treatment. And what’s worse is that a lot of them actually looked up to you and you just—you just—“

Gouenji looks positively pained at that, all calm and composed expression being dusted off and crumbled. But he doesn’t try to defend himself.

“You can’t buy them,” Hyouga ends up saying, “and the fact that you were trying to disband Fifth Sector from the inside doesn’t make up for the fact that we suffered, a lot, back there. That’s something your phone, or your words, or anything else you could give, won’t erase.”

“Is that why you hate me?”

Hyouga nods, silent. Fubuki-senpai stares at him, helpless. Book long forgotten, bookmarked and closed on his lap.

Finally Gouenji lets out a breath, shoulders slumping. Hyouga watches him, wary.

“Anyone involved in Fifth Sector got the same things you got,” Gouenji finally says, “A brand new phone, money compensation, and if someone needed – a paid therapy. I know it’s not enough,” in the dimmed light of the living room, sitting next to Fubuki-senpai, Gouenji Shuuya looks older than he is and possibly more crushed under the weight of whatever he was carrying than before, “I know it will never be enough and I can’t be there for all the kids. I’m not trying to be.”

Hyouga opens his mouth, “But—“

“You asked me why you’re special,” Gouenji continues, unbothered, “and why you’re the only one I came to personally. The thing is, I’m not a good person who wants to fix everyone, I don’t have the energy to do that and frankly, there are probably more kids like you who hate me and want nothing to do with me, and I respect that.”

“Gouenji…” Fubuki-senpai tries to cut in, “You don’t have to—“

“You’re Fubuki’s mentee,” Gouenji says and Hyouga straightens out, “I’d go as far as to say it’s even more than that. I think it would be ignorant of me to not try and set things right with someone he’s so close to when we’re _literally dating_.”

The world comes to screeching halt. Fubuki-senpai looks mortified and a little red on the face. Hyouga feels like his soul left his body, all anger forgotten for a time being.

_I hate it when I’m right_, he thinks, absentmindedly.

Gouenji raised an eyebrow, but Hyouga shakes his head, vigorously as if shaking the thought away, “You’re—“

“Yes.”

“And—and—“ Hyouga tries very hard to stay close to the reality, “So the reason you went to the dinner, and the reason you came to Hokkaido, and the reason you visited Hakuren, it was all for—?”

“For you, mostly,” Gouenji confirms, the tension in the room finally easing up a little, “Well. Fubuki is also a part of the reason I’m here right now, but I told you – I want to set things right between us. It didn’t work out as well, since you not only didn’t appear at the practice but you also totally blew me off earlier as well, but the effort was made.”

“That’s—“ the whole situation seems like a joke and Hyouga takes a step back, “That’s so ridiculous.”

Fubuki-senpai is covering up his face, not looking at him. Gouenji throws him an amused look.

“Me dating Fubuki or me throwing everything aside to make amends with one kid from Hokkaido?”

“Both!”

“I guess I can see why,” Gouenji allows, serious.

“Ridiculous,” Hyouga repeats and he finally sits back down, “It’s so stupid that I feel bad for getting mad at you.”

Fubuki-senpai stills, lifts his head and throws him a surprised look, “Huh?”

“Kou did some digging,” Hyouga says, “and she send me all those links. The media said you’re searching for a new life or something. That you just got up and left one day and the next time they saw you, you were already here and—“ He looks at him, “And I seriously can’t tell you how stupid it is now to think about it, that the reason wasn’t some deep existential crisis, it was literally you and—“

“—my determination to get along with my boyfriend’s kid, yes.”

Hyouga stares at him, then groans and hides his head in his hands, “This is so stupid.”

Gouenji looks at him seriously for a second, “I understand that it’s not going to make you forgive me, or make you like me. And that I will have to work for you to trust me, even just a little, after what happened with God’s Eden, but,” Hyouga peeks at him through his hands, “but if you’re okay with that, I’d like us to at least try. For Fubuki’s sake, if not for our own.”

Fubuki-senpai immediately speaks up, “That is not to say that we’re forcing you to do this. If you don’t—“

Hyouga looks away, a split second decision made, if only to stop the conversation because his brain is already feeling too messy and he feels too tired to fight back or even get angry, “Okay.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, “Are you sure?”

Hyouga glares at Gouenji, “Don’t think that makes us friends. Or anything. I’m doing this for Fubuki-senpai.”

There’s a smile on his face as Gouenji huffs, “Of course. For Fubuki.”

Fubuki-senpai for his part, doesn’t waste any second of the new found truce and he shoots Hyouga a look when Hyouga hides a yawn in his hand, “Alright, bedtime for you.”

Gouenji goes back to his phone, maybe trying to give them some space or privacy, or whatever, Hyouga thinks, as Fubuki-senpai ushers him to the quest room, “But it’s barely eight,” he protests.

“Then it’s nap time for you.”

“Senpai, I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It works like I say it works, now up you go. Nana’s already in there anyways, I saw her stealing your blanket.”

“Yes, yes…”

In the end, the day doesn’t get better and the night isn’t without incidents, either, but as Hyouga’s head hits the pillow, Nana’s familiar warmth against his chest and the bedding neatly tucked around him, the sleep overcomes him faster than it ever did.


	2. it just wasn't worth it

When Hyouga wakes up, it’s to the smell of breakfast and Nana’s gentle purring on his chest. He spends the next ten minutes staring at the ceiling, both because he doesn’t want to get up and disturb the cat, and because waking up and facing the world doesn’t sound appealing right now.

It’s when Nana slowly blinks back and stretches on his stomach that Hyouga sits up and thinks, it’s yet another day.

He changes into spare clothes Fubuki-senpai took care to put in the room, knowing how Hyouga stays over more and more and sometimes spends the nights, slides the hand through his hair and winces at the stickiness, and only then, he walks out.

Only to be greeted with the sight he never, ever wanted to see and he feels the wave of embarrassment, quickly covering his eyes with his hand and clearing his throat. Fubuki-senpai standing in the kitchen with Gouenji right next to him – almost in his face, actually – breaks off the other man’s grip at his waist and turns around with a sheepish smile.

Hyouga slowly puts his hand down, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Fubuki-senpai coughs out. Gouenji echoes the greeting, “Did you sleep well?”

Carefully stepping around them to where he knows he put his jacket before Fubuki-senpai ushered him to bed last night, Hyouga hums with a dismissive, “Sure,” while gripping at the pockets to find the – way too expensive, way too out of Hyouga’s league – phone to check his messages.

Fubuki-senpai lets out a sigh, “Hyouga…”

Ignoring that, Hyouga unlocks his screen. Not surprisingly, there’s not a single text from his parents, and none missed calls. Whatever Hyouga was secretly hoping for obviously wasn’t on his mom’s mind or his father’s, and even though he expected that to happen, it still sends a pang to his chest.

He locks the screen without a word. Fubuki-senpai watches him, silent. Then, “Would you like to eat now?”

Not feeling hungry, but knowing it’s better to consume at least a slice of bread, Hyouga nods and goes to sit by the table. He feels the man’s look on his back the whole time, but he pretends not to see it and be busy with the phone.

And then. Then—

“We didn’t really finish our talk from yesterday, did we?”

Hyouga glances at Gouenji, reminds himself that yes, it’s impolite to ignore the direct approach, and nods, “Maybe.”

“I asked about your parents.”

“I know.”

Gouenji’s eyes glint with amusement, “You’re so much like Fubuki that it actually hurts to watch.”

Hyouga blinks, “If you’re dating, shouldn’t you be on the first name basis?”

“We thought it would be weird for you,” Fubuki-senpai calls out from the kitchen and Hyouga lifts his eyes to see him putting something on the plate, “So we held back.”

Hyouga stares at him for a moment, then looks at Gouenji, then back at his phone, “Fair enough. It’s weird.”

Fubuki-senpai snorts.

Gouenji picks up the conversation again, “Nice try changing the subject, Yukimura. Now, care to tell me?”

“Don’t know how that is your business.” Hyouga shoots back quietly.

“I already explained why it’s my business.”

Hyouga glares at him, then seeing as Gouenji isn’t backing down, not like Fubuki-senpai would, he sighs and answers, “And I already told you that they hate everything soccer related, that’s why they were so cold.”

He doesn’t look at him this time. And his fingers shake slightly as he holds onto his phone. Even so, he refuses to back down and stop there. It would feel like a personal defeat.

“And it was. The first time it happened, kind of. They’re usually more subtle about—“ he swallows down, “about being like this. Fubuki-senpai knows because my mom showed up once at school and he told her off.”

“So they were always like this?”

Hyouga’s eyes take sudden interest in the picture on his phone wallpaper, the only one he possesses right now, of Nana napping on the stairs.

He thinks of those two years. He tries to remember, really remember if they always put him down like this, if they always knew how to make it so Hyouga took the blame on himself. He always tries to do the opposite and forget, because actually thinking about it hurts.

Every time he starts, it’s the same.

And every time—

“Yeah,” he rasps out and grips the phone while Gouenji’s eyes darken in a way Hyouga saw Fubuki-senpai’s change every single time Hyouga mentions his parents, “Probably.”

_They probably hated who you are from the beginning,_ says the whisper in his mind and he tries to shoo the thought away as Fubuki-senpai finally comes over and places the plate full of food in front o him.

Gouenji’s eyes don’t leave him.

“I don’t think,” he begins as Fubuki-senpai sits down, Nana already on his lap, “that it’s fair to you.”

Hyouga munches on his food slowly on purpose to hold off the response. If Gouenji notices, he doesn’t call him out.

“Maybe.”

“Isn’t there something you can do?”

Fubuki-senpai shoots him a warning look. Hyouga finally glances at him from the corner of his eye and raises an eyebrow, “I can’t exactly file a complaint and find a new family. And even if I did, there’s 75% chance that I will end up outside of Hokkaido.”

“Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

“No,” Hyouga immediately says, or more likely snaps, because even Fubuki-senpai looks startled, “it wouldn’t.”

It’s fine like this. The way Hyouga is now, where he is now and what people are around him. There are times when things are really rough and when he can’t really block out his mother’s angry words and his father’s mean looks, and times when all of it is too much. But leaving wouldn’t be worth it. Whatever friends he managed to gather, whatever piece of family he always longed for that he has now, being free and having a peaceful life wouldn’t ever be as equally rewarding as that.

“It’s okay,” he says, “It’s way better than it was, anyways.”

“If you say so,” Gouenji says at that, totally not convinced.

“I do.”

The conversation ends at that, although, Hyouga is almost 99% sure it’s not the last time he will hear about it.

* * *

“They’re _wha_t?” Kou’s voice cuts through Hyouga’s mumbled explanations.

Laying on the bed in the guest room at Fubuki-senpai’s place after he decided that going home isn’t his top priority yet, Hyouga curls a hand in Nana’s soft fur and breathes into the smell of fresh cookies, “Dating. I found out yesterday.”

There’s shuffling on the other side of the room, Kou’s hushed voice speaking to someone, then the sound of door slamming shut and finally, Kou answers, “I can’t believe coach Fubuki is dating THE Gouenji Shuuya. Yukimura-kun, you have to introduce me.”

Hyouga snorts, “You met him yesterday, didn’t you? At practice.”

“But not face to face!” She insists, “You have to. Come on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” he begins, hesitant just as someone knocks at the door, before opening it, “I mean, it’s supposed to be kind of. You know, a private thing?”

“I’m practically a family to you!” Kou protests loudly just as Hyouga lifts his eyes to greet the newcomer in the room, “Please, please, please, Yukimura-kun, _please_—“

Fubuki-senpai blinks at Hyouga wincing at the phone, before he sits down and nods his head at it while mouthing: “who’s this?” Hyouga pauses, but it doesn’t seem like Kou is going to stop begging him anytime soon, so he covers the mouthpiece and answers, “It’s Kou.”

“What does she want?”

Hyouga’s eyes involuntarily fly over to the threshold and he immediately looks back at Nana. Fubuki-senpai stares at him, confused for a moment, before he lets out a soft ‘ah’ and throws Hyouga a smile, “You told her, didn’t you?”

Hyouga curls up, “Sorry. I know it’s not any of my business.”

Nana meows at him, angrily. Hyouga strokes her fur.

“She’s a friend, isn’t she?” Fubuki-senpai asks, unbothered, and doesn’t even wait for a reply, “So it’s fine.”

Hyouga throws him a disbelieving look, before he purses his lips and lets out a breath. Then, “She wants to meet him.”

“Hmm?”

Hyouga hesitates before repeating, hearing Kou whining on the other side of the phone about him being too silent, “Gouenji.”

“She wants to meet Gouenji?” Fubuki-senpai asks, to be certain, a little surprised, before he covers it up with a thoughtful hum, “Didn’t know she was a fan.”

Hyouga finally focuses back on Kou and clears his throat, “Since when do you even like him?”

Kou cuts herself off with a huff, “I mean. It’s Gouenji Shuuya_, duh_,” she says as if that explained everything, before she seems to get serious and Hyouga has a feeling she’s shrugging as she continues, “But other than that, he did help out a lot with soccer and stuff. And I when I was looking him up, he seemed like good person. That’s all.”

Hyouga blinks, before he looks back to Fubuki-senpai silently watching him, “She says it’s because of soccer.” In the background, Kou complains that he awfully shortened her response before questioning him who he’s talking to, “Fubuki-senpai,” he answers to that.

Then, Fubuki-senpai suddenly speaks up, before Hyouga can add anything more, “You can invite her over.”

Hyouga’s mind halts, once again, before he reigns his shock back from his features and swallows down. He wants to make sure if he hasn’t misheard, but before the question tumbles out of his mouth, he recalls Fubuki-senpai’s constant reminders that just because Hyouga is questioning everything around him it doesn’t mean that Fubuki-senpai is the same.

So he takes a deep breath, mentally shoos away the thoughts that shouldn’t matter to him, and to Kou he says, “Fubuki-senpai said that you can come over if you want to.”

“Really?” She sounds as excited as Hyouga feels.

“Yeah.”

“Is Gouenji there, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” she says before she abruptly hangs up on him.

Hyouga switches the phone off and places it on the bed. Nana purrs when he starts petting her in earnest now, while Hyouga looks back to Fubuki-senpai, “Thank you.”

Maybe he imagines that, but there’s something in Fubuki-senpai’s eyes, something so warm it hurts to look at. Something Hyouga thinks he should be used to seeing in his parents’ eyes, but for some reason isn’t.

He goes back to petting Nana, but he still hears Fubuki-senpai as he whispers, a little to himself, a little to Hyouga, “Anytime.” And Hyouga pretends that he doesn’t imagine his mom saying that at least once in his life.

* * *

Kou shows up seventeen minutes later, casual clothes on since it isn’t a school day and with a yellow bag draped over her shoulder, blonde hair in two pigtails and red eyes shining with light Hyouga started to associate with happiness.

“Did you run here?” Hyouga asks, letting her in and watching her as she changed from her shoes to slippers.

Kou shakes her head, “Took the last bus,” then she straightens out and something on Hyouga’s face must have showed how tired he was, because she immediately sobers up, “Did something happen besides, you know, the thing with Gouenji-san?”

Hyouga’s voice gets stuck in his throat at that, but he shakes his head, “Why would something happen?”

“I don’t know,” Kou answers, hesitant, “You just don’t look okay.”

Something squeezes Hyouga’s chest and he doesn’t know if it’s because he feels touched that she saw something wrong or because he feels ashamed of being so easily affected. He doesn’t have to answer that comment, because as soon as he opens his mouth, Fubuki-senpai appears in the threshold of the living room.

Hyouga lets out a sigh of relief when Kou’s focus switches back to the man, smile that used to annoy Hyouga slipping back on her face, “Coach Fubuki, good morning!”

“Risuna-kun, morning.” Fubuki-senpai nods, eyes stopping on Hyouga’s tense form for just a second longer, ensuring Hyouga that the man isn’t fooled into thinking that Hyouga’s alright after yesterday’s events. Then, the man gestures to the living room, “Come on, you two, I will make you something warm to drink.”

Kou doesn’t waste any second and follows him right after with a question, “Can I please get some lemon tea?”

Hyouga hears Fubuki-senpai humming an affirmative and it’s only then that he makes his body move, albeit his movements are sluggish and lazy at most. He knows Kou doesn’t mind it, at least not yet, because he hears her chatting quietly with Fubuki-senpai, and just as he enters the living room, he hears her voice get slightly more excited as she’s introduced to Gouenji.

He takes a seat on the couch, just as Kou notices him and mouths a ‘thank you’ at him. Moments later Fubuki-senpai joins him and hands him a cup. The smell of lemon greets him as soon as he hugs the cup to his chest.

Then, a thought hits him.

“Is Gouenji going to stay with you from now on?” Hyouga asks, an edge to his voice.

Fubuki-senpai looks unruffled as he answers, “We haven’t thought about it. His sister is back at home, so I doubt he’d want to leave her like that.”

Something cold curls around Hyouga’s back, but forces himself to ask one more question, “Does that mean _you _will move out?”

Fubuki-senpai’s head snaps up, mix of confusion masked by the man’s indignant huff, “Of course not. I’m coaching Hakuren, I can’t just—“ Hyouga keeps staring at him, but it’s as if he doesn’t see him at all, and Fubuki-senpai’s words finally caught up with the man and his eyes soften, “Hyouga, you know that was Fifth Sector who made me leave the position. I’d never willingly leave the team without at least explaining myself.”

Although they made up a long time ago, the burn of Fubuki-senpai suddenly disappearing back in the day still presented itself any time someone mentioned that time. Even though, it was kind of Hyouga’s fault for not having his phone fixed by then and not getting notified. He thinks things would look a lot different if he did that.

“Yeah, I know.” Hyouga mutters, sipping on the tea.

And then.

“Oh, yeah, by the way, Yukimura-kun,” Kou makes her way towards him, Gouenji right behind her, “I heard there’s a music competition at school two weeks from now on.”

Kou sits down and sips on her own tea, before leaning backwards, hugging the yellow bag to her chest as Hyouga blinks at her. Gouenji sends them a questioning look as he sits down next to Fubuki-senpai.

“I see.” He answers, not knowing what to say.

There’s a tense silence that doesn’t last long, it never does with Kou when she’s dead set on doing something. It’s not even a minute later that she clears her throat and prompts him with a, “And…?”

Hyouga stares at her, “I have no idea what you want me to say.”

“You play violin!” Kou pouts, “You could enter.”

Hyouga grows rigid and turns to sip on his tea. Kou’s eyes grow sadder and less bright and immediately, Hyouga wants to kick himself for being the cause of that. He doesn’t, though, and that’s only because playing violin is the last on his priorities list.

That, and yeah, maybe he does miss violin, but he’s not stupid enough to think he’d get away with it at home.

And then, Fubuki-senpai adds in, quietly, “It’s not entirely bad idea, Hyouga.”

Hyouga stays silent. Gouenji’s eyes on his profile don’t help the case either and soon, he grows restless, too. Kou seems to sense that because her shoulders slump, defeated, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Hyouga says, but doesn’t really mean it.

Kou plays with her cup, “I was thinking,” she begins, barely above the whisper. Her fingers twitching, tracing patterns on the glass, “that maybe we could enter. Both.”

Hyouga’s eyes grow wider and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Fubuki-senpai lifting his head, too. He wonders, briefly, if Gouenji knows about Kou’s situation as well and that’s why he politely focuses on the book Fubuki-senpai has on his lap.

Hyouga finally finds his voice, “Enter?”

“Yeah.”

“But you—“

He doesn’t finish and he notices her clutching the bag tighter. Her shoulders are hitched up and her legs crossed. She looks not like the Kou he knows.

_Or maybe_, he realizes, _like the Kou she feels ashamed of_.

“I told myself,” she seems to stutter and Hyouga places the cup on the table, not feeling thirsty, “that I wouldn’t touch the piano, now when I know it’s the only thing my parents approve. I want to be a journalist, you know this.”

“Yeah,” Hyouga’s hand comes up to scratch his neck, “Then why?”

“Well,” she hesitates, “because I hated playing for them. So I thought, what if I play for myself? Would I still hate it?”

Hyouga’s mind flashes to full sketchbooks, pencils scattered around the room and loose papers with doodles from when Hyouga was a small kid. He thinks of his father, of Hyouga’s own growing hatred for art as they started to push and push more for Hyouga to become a professional.

He thinks of Kou, then.

“And I remembered that you play violin, like at that Talent Show. I thought maybe we could try and, I don’t know,” she looks away, a bit of red on her cheeks, “That’s stupid, isn’t it? And selfish. I know about your parents and yet—“

Hyouga focuses on the way Fubuki-senpai busies himself while trying to pretend he’s not listening to their conversation. He tries to control his breathing, and not look like it’s freaking him out – the thought of entering the competition with his parents and their temper.

And yet—

Even so—

“Let me think about it.” Hyouga ends up saying, watching as Kou’s red eyes lit up, in that hesitant hope, “Okay?”

“Okay!”

As if touched with a magic wand, Kou looks a lot happier, a lot brighter – almost like a star. It makes him wonder, if one day, she will stop trying to keep the light within her alight.

Unconsciously, Hyouga grips at his wrists, the phantom pains running up and down the skin. He startles when Kou checks her phone and suddenly stands up, announcing, “I forgot!” as if that made any sense.

“What did you—?”

“Itetsuki-kun! I was supposed to meet with him today and I totally forgot.” She explains, her yellow bag slung over her shoulder, and she bows down, apologetic, “I’m sorry, Coach, Gouenji-san!”

“It’s fine,” they both say at the same time, then look at each other, meanwhile Kou says a brief goodbye to Hyouga and almost runs out of the house, as if the devil himself was hot on her tail. He watches her go, before Hyouga checks his phone as well.

“I should get going, too,” he mutters out, time nearing twelve o’clock in the morning.

Fubuki-senpai immediately perks up, “You could just a little longer. We’re not kicking you out.”

Hyouga glances at Gouenji, but looks away as soon as he catches the man staring at him. Whatever that man has with Fubuki-senpai, it would be best for Hyouga to not butt his nose in. “Mom will—“

Oh. Wait.

He can’t even finish the sentence without feeling ridiculous. It’s so obvious that she wouldn’t worry, it’s so plain to see that she wouldn’t give a damn even if he went missing. Saying that would only—

He stands up and pockets his phone, “I will see you at school, Fubuki-senpai. Thanks for having me.”

He gets out of the house before any of them could notice his slightly glassy eyes.

* * *

He’s not even surprised when he comes back and his parents don’t even say ‘welcome back’ to him.

* * *

“You know, Yukimura, I’m pretty sure either your luck is that shitty or Coach wanted to make you miserable. Either way, thanks,” is what Itetsuki-san says at the start of morning practice after they all change into their uniforms and walk into the gym, only to find not only Fubuki-senpai, but also Gouenji.

Hyouga turns on his heel, but Itetsuki-san grabs him by the arm and turns him before he can walk out.

Kou, standing next to both men, sends him thumbs up, but Hyouga only stares at it, not fully comprehending it.

“You’re all familiar with Gouenji already, so I won’t bother with introductions,” Fubuki-senpai says, “Today, he will be joining us for practice. Make sure to show him you best side.”

Hyouga’s shoulders slump even more, “Why?” he groans under his breath.

Itetsuki-san cackles next to him, so Hyouga sends him glare. That only makes his laughter louder. Finally, Hyouga nudges him between the ribs and Itetsuki-san falls over with a dramatic yelp. It immediately makes the attention switch from Gouenji to them.

“Oi,” Kitaki-san peers at them from his juggling of the ball, “Are you guys like, sane?”

Itetsuki-san stays on the ground, mumbling into the concrete, “Yukimura kicked me,” he pouts, but before Hyouga can argue and say that it’s not true, Itetsuki-san shifts his head so he’s looking up at Hyouga, some self-satisfied smile on his face, “Good. That means you’re not a pushover, anymore.”

Hyouga freezes.

Kitaki-san looks at them, weird expression on his face. Then, slowly, “Oi, what are you talking about Itetsuki? Yukimura was never a pushover to begin with.”

“Hey! What are you three doing there, slacking off?” Fubuki-senpai calls over and when Hyouga glances in that direction, the man is narrowing his eyes.

Itetsuki-san stands up, dusts his pants off and raises an eyebrow at Hyouga, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

It feels oddly suffocating in the gym, but Hyouga swallows down and answers anyways, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kitaki-san moves to stand between them, an uneasy smile on his face when he realizes they’re stepping into dangerous territory of actually arguing and waves his hands, “Guys, I don’t think you want the Coach to get any madder, do you?”

The rest of the team seems to be busy dividing themselves into two groups, so Hyouga narrows his eyes at Itetsuki-san standing in front of him with that knowing grin, “Well?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean, Yukimura.”

“Enlighten me.”

Itetsuki-san opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it when Fubuki-senpai comes over. Kitaki-san looks a bit panicked but he tries to laugh it off, awkwardly, “Coach. We were just—uh.” He stops, then looks at Hyouga, “Actually. I have no idea, so I will just,” he slowly moves backwards, “just go. Yeah.”

And he dashes off to stand where Gouenji is standing with the rest of the Hakuren Soccer Team.

Only then, Fubuki-senpai looks at Hyouga and Itetsuki-san, “So? What’s going on?”

Hyouga doesn’t answer, but his glare doesn’t soften either. At last, Itetsuki-san sighs, “Nothing is going on, Coach. We were just settling some things.”

“I wasn’t a pushover,” Hyouga suddenly comments.

“You kind of were, though.”

Hyouga’s eyes pierce through him and Itetsuki-san looks like he regrets ever saying something. He looks from Fubuki-senpai to Hyouga, and back, and finally his shoulders slump and he mutters, “Don’t make me say it, Yukimura.”

“Say what?”

“Do you really,” Itetsuki-san side steps Fubuki-senpai and leans forwards so they’re practically face to face with Hyouga, “want me to point it all out? Aside from the Fifth Sector fiasco, I’m not stupid enough to forget about that time when you first came here.”

Immediately, Hyouga’s face closes off. Itetsuki-san doesn’t back down, but he does shoot a wary look to Fubuki-senpai before saying, “I don’t think Yukimura is feeling okay, is it alright if I take him to the nurse?”

“Hyouga—“

“When I first came here…” Hyouga trails off, then his head snaps up, “We didn’t even know each other.”

“We did—“

“No, we didn’t.” Hyouga insists and he grabs Itetsuki-san’s arms, “What are you even talking about?”

Now it’s Itetsuki-san’s turn to feel uncomfortable and he looks away. Fubuki-senpai finally gets fed up with being ignored and clears his throat, “Hyouga,” he says, loudly enough to catch the boy’s attention, “Do you want to go to the nurse?”

“No,” he mutters out, cheeks flushing a little, before he wrenches his hands away from the material of Itetsuki-san’s shirt and steps back, “No, it’s fine.”

It’s not fine at all, but Hyouga deals with the discomfort when he catches Itetsuki-san doing the same and joining the practice.

* * *

“I’ll do it.”

Kou nearly drops all her things on the ground. Hyouga thinks that maybe he should have waited a little bit, and not drop it on her just as she’s getting out of the gym building, but he also knows it would give him more time to back down and not make the decision at all.

“You’re joking?” She asks, regaining her bearings and fixing her Hakuren uniform, “You’re actually going to—“

“You asked me,” Hyouga says, a bit irked, but changes his voice when Kou shrinks a bit, “And you never ask for things, not really. It would a douche move if I didn’t agree.”

Kou’s eyes get a little too wide and a little to shocked for Hyouga’s liking, because it’s as if she didn’t really believe he’d say that. He brushes it off soon after, knowing that part is kind of his fault.

“Woah,” is the only thing she says as an answer and Hyouga has an urge to turn away and walk down the path to the main building. He doesn’t do that, though, because just as he prepares to do so, he catches Itetsuki-san trying to flee from the stairs and avoid Fubuki-senpai and Gouenji.

Briefly wondering why he’s even trying to avoid the two, Hyouga mutters a goodbye to Kou, saying he will go and sign in for the competition later, and Kou murmurs a thank you, before walking away, just as Hyouga turns to stalk the light-blue-haired boy.

Itetsuki-san is about to sneakily make his escape when Hyouga picks up a ball he always carries with himself when he feels like not going home by the end the school finishes up and kicks it in the direction of Itetsuki-san.

(And the fact that Gouenji is standing not so far away and he’s in the shoot’s path, well. Hyouga is not about to admit that, it’s just a happy coincidence).

The ball flies right in front of the boy and if Gouenji weren’t paying attention to his surroundings he’d probably get hit by it – instead the man catches it with his hand with Fubuki-senpai sending Hyouga a warning look the younger promptly ignores in favor of catching up with Itetsuki-san.

“What the hell, Yukimura?” Itetsuki-san snaps the second Hyouga is close enough to touch his arm, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Hyouga answers, nodding to Gouenji, “I was just returning it to Gouenji-san.”

The man mentioned above raised an eyebrow at that.

Itetsuki-san narrows his eyes and hitches his shoulders higher, defensive, “I know you’re lying. You never call him with a honorific.”

Hyouga crosses his arms, “You pay attention to what I call him?”

Itetsuki-san’s cheeks get a bit of red , but Hyouga writes it off on the cold around them. Instead of arguing about that one thing, Hyouga tilts his head at him, “Alright, so. What’s your deal?”

“There’s no deal,” Itetsuki-san shoots back, a little too quickly. Hyouga opens his mouth to rebut that, but in that same moment his eye catches the slight movement and the air around him shifts. He has just enough time to let out an offended noise when Itetsuki-san throws his bag at him and somersaults (something he absolutely didn’t have to do, Itetsuki-san_, what the heck—?)_ and catches the incoming ball with his hands.

Hyouga has to force his eyes away to glare at Gouenji. Gouenji only shrugs at him. Itetsuki-san narrows his eyes at him and nearly hits Hyouga with the ball as he gives it back, “You’re both insane,” is what he says.

Hyouga grabs the ball, “You’re the one starting fight with me.”

“I’m not starting a fight with you.”

“You literally called me a pushover.” Hyouga deadpans.

Itetsuki-san opens his mouth, stares at him for a second, then closes it and shrugs, “Well. I said that you were one _before.”_

“And I still don’t get what you mean,” Hyouga snaps and Itetsuki-san sighs, “So I would really like it if you’d just, you know, explain what you mean.”

“It’s getting late.” Itetsuki-san protests halfheartedly.

“I don’t care.”

There’s that glint in Itetsuki-san’s black eyes as he looks at him, and hums, “You don’t, huh?” Hyouga throws Itetsuki-san’s bag back at him, with a little too much force because Itetsuki-san stumbles back a bit, “See? That’s what I mean.”

Hyouga’s glare doesn’t lessen. Itetsuki-san actually looks offended, “Don’t look at me like you look at Gouenji-san. I feel threatened.”

“Itetsuki-san—“

“Aren’t you coming back with Coach?” Itetsuki-san interrupts just as Hyouga sees Fubuki-senpai whisper something into Gouenji’s ear, “You’re kind of making him wait, you know.”

Hyouga feels something akin to anger at Itetsuki-san’s knowing look, the slight tremor in the boy’s hands and the feeling that something is very not right. His hand shoots out to take Itetsuki-san’s wrist and he pulls him closer.

Fubuki-senpai actually stops at that, half way there. Gouenji’s eyes burn into Hyouga’s face.

Itetsuki-san’s own eyes are unnaturally wide and he looks ready to bolt.

“You’re kind of avoiding the subject,” Hyouga says and his voice is harsh, “so I will ask again. How did you know about the first time I came here?”

“Everyone did,” Itetsuki-san defends.

“No,” Hyouga tightens his fingers, and Itetsuki-san shivers, “Because when I first came here, I was a wreck after the last school that did me over. And you couldn’t have known that. You know why?” Itetsuki-san doesn’t flinch away, “Because I joined the soccer club after I got myself under control. Like, a week after transferring. You couldn’t have seen what I was when I first—”

Itetsuki-san stays quiet.

Fubuki-senpai looks at Hyouga, a question in his eyes. And then, something in Itetsuki-san’s posture makes Hyouga realize and he nearly recoils.

“Unless. Unless you knew me before—“ Hyouga lets Itetsuki-san’s wrist and steps back, “Fifth Sector—“

“It wasn’t Fifth Sector,” Itetsuki-san finally answers, “And I did see you before you joined the soccer club, but that’s because I was actually trying to find you.” At Hyouga’s not comprehending look, Itetsuki-san continues, “My dad knows your—father,” there’s slight hesitation in his voice as he reveals that, “and he asked me to check if you’re alright. He doesn’t know you, per se, but he heard stuff about your family and it didn’t sit right with him.”

“So he told you to look after Hyouga.” Fubuki-senpai finally jumps into the conversation.

Itetsuki-san shakes his head, “No. He just told me to see if there were,” he looks between him and Hyouga, more hesitation, “any bruises.” Hyouga twitches and Itetsuki-san sends him a look, “I befriended Yukimura because I wanted. No pressure here, if that’s what you were wondering.”

Hyouga blinks, “We’re friends?”

Itetsuki-san’s eye twitches and he slaps the back of Hyouga’s head, “We are, you idiot! Why the hell do you—“

“Language, Itetsuki-kun!”

“—think I hang out with you?”

“Social obligation?”

Both Fubuki-senpai and Itetsuki-san send him a Look and Hyouga quickly shuts up. Itetsuki-san continues, “Anyways. I said you were a pushover, because you really, really were one. There were no bruises, but you were just there. Like a puppet. An angry puppet, but still. Like you were walking on a thin ice all the time. Let the former coach step on you. That kind of thing. You never even stood up to yourself.”

Hyouga frowns.

Itetsuki-san looks at his watch, “Anyways. I need to get home, but just,” there it is, that glint in the eyes, “just think it through, okay?”

“Sure,” Hyouga mutters out, “See you.”

“See you.”

When Itetsuki-san is out of earshot, Hyouga turns to Fubuki-senpai and slumps his shoulders. Fubuki-senpai wordlessly ruffles his hair. “He’s kind of right, you know?”

Hyouga glares at him, “I didn’t ask, Senpai.” Then, after looking around, “Where’s Gouenji?”

“In the car,” Fubuki-senpai answers, “Why?”

“He’s going home with you?”

Fubuki-senpai glances at him, “Aren’t you, too?”

“I have homework,” Hyouga says but it doesn’t feel like a believable excuse and he doesn’t even put his heart into those words, “If Gouenji is staying with you, then you—“ He suddenly trails off, and coughs, “I mean—“

Fubuki-senpai’s eyes narrow, “No. Go ahead. If he’s here, I will what?”

Hyouga shifts his bag, and gives up trying to avoid crossing the bridge he just build himself, “Be busy. With him. Gouenji.” He mumbles under his breath. “So there’s no reason for me go with you.”

Fubuki-senpai’s hand – still in Hyouga’s hair – shifts to rest on his shoulder and his hard look doesn’t soften, “The whole ‘boyfriend’ thing is getting to you, isn’t it?” Hyouga stubbornly glares at the ground and grips at his bag strap, “Do you think that just because we’re together I will just stop paying attention to you?”

Hyouga feels something twist inside him. It hurts. His throat is dry, so he just nods.

Fubuki-senpai runs a hand through his own hair, “Hyouga. You know that’s not true.”

Hyouga grits his teeth, “It’s always like this!” He insists.

“Like what?”

Hyouga purses his lips and glances away, while hunching his shoulders. Fubuki-senpai lets go of his shoulder and somehow that gesture alone feels like a confirmation.

_But Fubuki-senpai doesn’t know of Kotone,_ argues the logic part of Hyouga’s brain.

Kotone, the one who promised to stay together with Hyouga and never leave. That one part of Hyouga’s family that was always kind, always encouraging Hyouga to do things his way. The one that showed him that art isn’t a duty, it’s fun. Kotone, who after meeting her husband, just forgot about Hyouga and didn’t call, didn’t write letters, ever since.

“Nevermind,” Hyouga mumbles, “Sorry.”

_He’s not like that, _he tries to tell himself, _Fubuki-senpai isn’t Kotone. Or Mom. Or Dad._

Even as he tries to convince himself he remembers that it did happen once, too. But the difference was that Fubuki-senpai came back.

Fubuki-senpai blinks and Hyouga braces himself for a mean comeback, despite everything saying that it would never happen, and is surprised when Fubuki-senpai ends up saying something entirely different, “You can do your homework at my place and I will check it for you. And then, we can watch a movie with Nana.”

Hyouga hugs himself.

“What?” He whispers, then shakes his head, “What about Gouenji?”

“Gouenji can entertain himself.” Is Fubuki-senpai’s final and firm answer and Hyouga feels like Gouenji doesn’t really have a say in that either way. “So? I will even make you hot chocolate.”

Hyouga takes a minute to answer, “With marshmallows?”

Fubuki-senpai laughs, “Yes. With marshmallows.”

“Lots of them?” Hyouga makes sure.

“Yes. Lots and lots of them.”

Hyouga relaxes, “Okay. I’ll go.”

Fubuki-senpai smiles and gestures towards the parking lot. Hyouga moves with little to no hesitation.

* * *

They finish Hyouga’s homework about half an hour later and Hyouga waits for the inevitable to happen – Fubuki-senpai leaving him in favor of talking with Gouenji who was sitting somewhere away from them, Hyouga thinks he caught him leaned against the back of the sofa with a book – but Fubuki-senpai only watches him as he packs up his textbooks and stays exactly where he is.

Hyouga is suspicious.

There’s no reason for him to be, obviously, but somehow he can’t help himself. Silence always meant something bad before, that was certain, but now, with Fubuki-senpai? Hyouga could never quite learn how to read the man.

True to his word, though, Fubuki-senpai doesn’t entertain Gouenji at all. Hyouga doesn’t know how to feel about this so he resorts to shooting looks to where the other man is behind the sofa, here and there, before he gives up completely and gives Fubuki-senpai a miserable look.

“I don’t want to take your time with him away, Senpai,” Hyouga says then, because even though he has what he wants it doesn’t feel right, “You can do the stuff you usually do. I won’t be bothering you—“

“Hyouga,” Fubuki-senpai interrupts before Hyouga can properly spiral down the rabbit hole, “Didn’t I tell you what I think about that?”

Hyouga’s eyes glance in the direction of Gouenji again, “It feels rude.”

“What do you even think we’re doing in here when you’re not around?” Fubuki-senpai asks, leaning backwards in his seat. Hyouga shrugs at that. “Gouenji is practically on his vacation, there’s no business to attend to, either. He’s so bored he’s even coming to Hakuren to assist with the practice.”

Oh.

_So that’s why,_ Hyouga thinks_, he came to help that day._

“Still,” he ends up saying, stubborn, and he can see the way Fubuki-senpai watches him that the man is at loss to how to convince him otherwise, “I’m—“ he hesitates, “I’m fine with you doing stuff with Gouenji.”

There’s a curious sound from behind the sofa. Hyouga ignores it.

“Stuff?” Fubuki-senpai repeats.

Hyouga crosses his arms, defensive, “I’m sure you don’t just sit in silence like you are now.”

Fubuki-senpai hums and then there’s a glint in his eyes, one that screams mischief. Hyouga thinks that maybe that’s something that remained inside of Fubuki-senpai after his brother’s death.

Or maybe not. Fubuki Shirou is a little shit, after all. Hyouga is not fooled by the calm and composed façade he sees all the time. He’s not a saint, at all.

“Hmm,” Fubuki-senpai hums, then calls out to Gouenji. Hyouga feels like he made a grave mistake somewhere in his question as he watches the other man peek around the headrest, “what do we do for fun?”

It takes a second for Gouenji to caught up to whatever Fubuki-senpai is trying to hint at and Hyouga feels even more lost.

“Um.” He says, unsure.

Fubuki-senpai wiggles his fingers at Hyouga.

It takes a full minute for Hyouga to realize what that means and he literally jumps in place, “Oh no. No. Wait. That’s not what I mean—“

There are alarms blaring in Hyouga’s mind when Gouenji gets up from his spot as well. Hyouga doesn’t waste any second bolting from his seat, but even with his speed and agility, the traitorous placement of Fubuki-senpai’s furniture, and the fact that – apparently – both men are skilled in cornering runaways who definitely do not want to be tickled, keeps him from going far.

Gouenji catches him by the waist and turns him around to awaiting Fubuki-senpai in a matter of seconds.

“No, wait! That’s cheating!” Hyouga exclaims, offended.

“You’re the one who wanted us to do the usual.”

Hyouga wriggles in Gouenji’s grip, “That’s now what I meant!”

Fubuki-senpai shrugs, “Too late.”

When Fubuki-senpai’s fingers dig into Hyouga’s armpits, he shrieks and tries to get away. And when those hands dig into his sides, he bursts into loud laugher, eyes squeezing shut and hands flying miserably to cover his weak points.

“Nooo,” Hyouga groans, twisting away, “St-hah-ha-stop!”

Gouenji hoists him higher, “Are you admitting defeat?”

Fubuki-senpai’s fingers are relentless and Hyouga hides his pride in his sleeve and nods desperately, “Yes, yes! Now stop!”

Gouenji lets him go soon after that and Hyouga slumps on the ground, panting and letting out an occasional giggle, a stupid smile on his face still on. Fubuki-senpai crouches in front of him, satisfied, “You still want us to do our usual stuff?”

Hyouga shakes his head, vigorously, “No!”

Gouenji snorts.

“Well, as you can see,” Fubuki-senpai starts, “Neither I nor Gouenji mind if we don’t spend time with each other all the time. You’re fine, Hyouga, really.”

Finally managing to get his breath under control, Hyouga lifts up his eyes, “That’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“All that,” Hyouga gestures vaguely around.

The atmosphere, the strange, now familiar, comfort that comes with being around Fubuki-senpai and his friends, knowing that Hyouga is safe, knowing no one in this house means him any harm. It confuses Hyouga as much as it reassures him.

Even Gouenji’s presence doesn’t seem that bad, now that he thinks about it.

He wonders, briefly, what other kids that were stuck at God’s Eden would say at that.

The last thought wipes off his smile and he continues, “It doesn’t feel like I—Like I should be the one—“ he struggles, again, to get out the right words, “Ah. I can’t say it.”

“We already established that,” Gouenji picks up on that pretty quickly, “The others are glad I stay away from them, you know. If they wanted me to pay attention to them, they’d come. I keep my business hours open for anyone who was ever associated with Fifth Sector.”

“You’re not exactly kid-friendly looking.” Hyouga mutters out under his breath.

Gouenji blinks, clearly taken aback. Fubuki-senpai sends a pointed look to the blue highlights in his boyfriend’s light-blonde hair, “You know,” he says, “He’s actually right.”

Gouenji looks downright insulted, before a wolfish grin creeps onto his face, “Uh huh, is that so?”

Hyouga thinks a shiver goes through Fubuki-senpai’s body, but he’s cultured enough to mention it and hums to himself. He remembers that there was a time he wanted to experiment with his hair as well, times where Hyouga watched cool characters on the screen and thought, ah, I want to be like them. His mother never approved, obviously, but—

“Even so,” Hyouga says quietly, “I think it’s really nice.”

Gouenji glances at him, “Thanks,” before he wiggles his fingers in the direction of Fubuki-senpai, “But I think Fubuki doesn’t agree with us. How about we convince him?”

Fubuki-senpai gulps. “Oi, guys—“

“I think you’re right,” Hyouga grins, “As a revenge.”

Perhaps it’s not an usual way to bond with your mentor slash father figure’s boyfriend, but somehow in the middle of a tickling contest and uncontrollable giggles and bursts of laughter, Hyouga feels the already warm feeling in his chest spread all over his body and Hyouga thinks to himself, quietly, a thought not louder than a soft whisper, that maybe Gouenji Shuuya isn’t really as bad as he assumed.

* * *

“So. We’re totally improvising?” Kou asks when they set up in the room Fubuki-senpai allowed them to use and Hyouga hums, not really answering as he tunes his violin.

The room itself was small, and nothing except an old piano and couple of pictures hanging around was there. The walls were pale orange and it made it look way warmer than it would if it were white and unfeeling, like Hyouga’s own house. Even with the minimalistic exterior, Hyouga feels like it’s not all that empty.

“I wouldn’t call it improvising,” Hyouga answers as he opens the door slightly, just enough to hear Gouenji, Fubuki-senpai and Miyuki-san in the living room, discussing the latest soccer news, “Just. Not over-thinking it.”

The second Hyouga and Kou signed up for the music contest, Kou went down the rabbit hole and literally didn’t shut up about the thing. If it weren’t for the fact that Hyouga knows for a fact that she competed in previous competitions, he’d say she’s got the stage fright. But looking at her, and her none-shaking hands on the piano, Hyouga knows it’s something else bothering her.

He glances at her when she looks away to run her fingertips on the white keys.

“Did you tell your parents?” She asks suddenly.

Hyouga sighs, “Now, why would I do that?”

Kou lifts her head, “What about Coach Fubuki?”

He throws a look at the door and then looks back at her, “He knows we’re participating. I don’t know if he’ll show up.”

“You could ask, you know?”

“It’s just a stupid competition.”

Except it isn’t – ever since the Talent Show and Hyouga’s violin that he got from school with the permission of Yamada-sensei, he knows that it’s never ‘just’ and it’s never ‘stupid’. At least, it’s not now. His parents not even lifting their heads at him when he comes home assure him that he’s practically free to do as he pleases. Somehow it both relieves him and pains him.

And it felt nice, that day. When Fubuki-senpai came to watch and sat in the front row reserved for parents.

“I told my parents,” she admits then and Hyouga stills at that, “They were very happy.”

“Did they—?”

“Yeah,” Kou whispers, “They said that they hope I will keep that up and return to playing regularly.”

“Oh,” he says, not knowing how to answer. Kou smiles at him, sadly.

“I won’t do that, though. I’m pretty sure I want to be a journalist, whether they let me or not. It’s just—“ she trails off, unsure, “I was hoping they’d… I don’t know. Understand that I don’t want it to be my job in the future.”

“And they don’t get that.” Hyouga sums up. “Because they want you to be a piano player.”

“A professional piano player,” Kou dryly corrects and Hyouga hums, “Like. They’re just so sure, so insistent, that I make that work. They don’t realize that I just don’t want it, that maybe I—“

“Want to do something I’m not so good at?” Hyouga asks.

Kou stays silent.

“Because sometimes we don’t like the thing we’re naturally good at,” Hyouga continues, picking up his violin that he placed on the table somewhere at the beginning of their conversation, “sometimes we want something of our own, because once we learn something that’s so clearly not fit for us, it gives us this feeling of self-satisfaction, this gratification.” He glances at Kou and rolls his eyes when he sees her mouth hanging open, “Oh, come on. Sometimes I say smart things, what about it?”

“Nothing,” Kou shakes her head, then smiles, “Thanks, Yukimura-kun.”

Hyouga nods, then motions to the piano, “So? Shall we start?”

“Yeah,” Kou turns to the piano, “We shall.”

* * *

“I didn’t know you play piano, Fubuki.” Miyuki mentions sipping her tea as she listens to the sounds coming from the other room.

Shirou looks up, “I don’t.”

Miyuki stares at him.

Gouenji blinks.

“Atsuya,” Shirou starts and cuts himself off. His grip on the mug tightens, but the same smile that has always been on his face doesn’t waver. He always thinks he’s past this, that he’s ready to talk about his brother, that it doesn’t hurt as much.

But it does. Each and single time, it feels like there’s someone stabbing his side.

“Atsuya did.” He manages to get out and scratches his neck, when he feels the hot burn of Gouenji’s stare on his face. “I never really learned to play on any instrument.”

Miyuki doesn’t answer for a second, but when she does, her voice gets a little softer, a little too knowing, “He sounds like a talented pal.”

“To be honest? He was.” Shirou looks in the direction of where Risuna and Hyouga are, and his expression becomes more fond than pained, his smile becoming a little less forced, “He’d like Hyouga, too.”

Atsuya with his sometimes rash, but usually thoughtful behavior; Atsuya with his love for music and his never ending pursuit of mastering anything anyone told him he’d be bad at; Atsuya with his stubbornness and twinkle in the eyes.

He was so young. So full of energy. And yet so, so skilled.

“But I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be a moment of peace if those two have met,” Shirou admits and his chest becomes a little lighter at that, and he throws a look at Gouenji, “Look at you two, Hyouga doesn’t stop glaring at you every two seconds.”

Gouenji munches on the cookie from the box Miyuki brought and answers, “Pretty sure we’re getting better.”

Miyuki looks between them, “They don’t like each other?”

There’s a slight grimace on his face as Shirou answers, “I think Gouenji reminds him of God’s Eden,” at the name of that place, Miyuki’s eyes become a little darker, “And he probably feels a little guilty. You know how he is.”

“I don’t see why he would,” Gouenji admits, “It wasn’t his fault and it isn’t his responsibility to help the rest of the kids there.”

Miyuki leans backwards on her seat, “He feels guilty?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Shirou hesitates, “Probably because he doesn’t think he deserves it.” There’s a beat of silence and he sips slowly on his tea before continuing, “He looks a lot better than he did, but sometimes—“

A loud groan, then Hyouga laughing in the other room interrupts him. Miyuki glances over her shoulder and calls out, “Everything okay in there?”

“Yukimura-kun is cheating!” comes Risuna’s answer.

A bit of shuffling, then Hyouga protests, “She messed up because she’s distracted.”

“I’m distracted because you keep changing the tempo.”

“I do not!”

“You do!”

“Kids!” Miyuki snaps and the room goes quiet, before a chorus of a ‘sorry, Miyuki-san!’ reaches their ears and the music starts up again. The woman turns back to Shirou, “Seriously. What’s up with them?”

“Music competition.” Gouenji answers for him. “I think they’re nervous.”

“I doubt it,” Miyuki frowns, “They both appeared on stage multiple times. It looks like Risuna-kun is worried about something, though.”

Shirou hums, “Probably her parents.”

Miyuki groans and then snatches the last cookie and angrily bites into it, “I hate it that we can’t do anything for them.”

Gouenji looks between them, confused, “Her parents?”

“Yeah,” Shirou answers, “They’re pretty strict, almost like Hyouga’s. I think it’s taking a toll on her.”

“Did you meet them?”

Shirou almost chokes on his tea. He wipes his mouth off with a tissue and clears his throat, “If them complaining to me about their daughter’s lack of interest in piano despite her talent is called ‘meeting’ them and them not even introducing themselves, then yes. I did.” He winces, “It’s tough, I think, to have parents who push their ambitions on you.”

Gouenji looks away, “It probably is.”

Shirou throws him a look, silently asking if he went a little too far, but Gouenji’s face clears soon after. Miyuki doesn’t comment on it, but she does push another box of cookies in the man’s direction and watches as Gouenji takes out one.

“Anyways,” she says, “You were saying something, Fubuki.”

“Ah, right,” he places the mug on the table, “I was just saying that even though Hyouga _is_ getting better, I sometimes catch him with this haunted look in his eyes. Like he’s not there,” he looks down, “like he’s back somewhere he doesn’t want to be.”

Miyuki’s eyes glaze over with something akin to anger, “Rotten people, those parents.”

“If you can even call them ‘parents’.” Gouenji comments drily.

“I’d beat them with a baseball bat.”

Shirou blinks, “Why so violent?”

“I don’t kindly to people like them,” is Miyuki’s final answer. Shirou looks at her for a moment too long, because she lifts her eyes and snaps, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, “It’s just that you seem to be taking this really personally.”

“Aren’t you?” Miyuki asks, voice still a little too sharp. Gouenji snatches yet another cookie, “He’s fifteen, so is Risuna-kun. Fifteen and they already look like they have years of trauma stocked up in their brains. Add the whole Fifth Sector thing and you become surprised they’re even able to function normally.”

Shirou nods, because there really isn’t an answer to that, and looks to Gouenji, “You think so, too?”

Gouenji swallows the last of his cookie and shrugs, “I don’t know Yukimura that well, but I do understand where Risuna is coming from. And I do think that she’s on the right path to recover, but—“ he sneaks a glance at the door in the back, where the sounds of piano and violin mix together, “Whether that works out or not, is ultimately up to them.”

Shirou sighs, as if defeated, “I knew you’d say something like this.”

Gouenji sends him a ‘what do you want from me?’ look, before he turns to Miyuki, “I’m guessing you know those two since the beginning?”

“Longer than Fubuki, at least,” Miyuki nods, “But not from the beginning. Yukimura-kun transferred to Hokkaido few months ago, Risuna-kun started to hang out with him at my place only recently.” There’s a sudden, screechy sound in the back and she winces, “Although, I’m surprised. Fubuki, do you just go around adopting kids?”

Shirou splutters as Gouenji deadpans, “Have you just noticed?”

Miyuki laughs.

“I don’t adopt them,” Shirou protests, “They just—“

“Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Really—!”

“We all know the truth, Fubuki.”

“…”

* * *

Kou goes home a little after six, accompanied by Miyuki-san and with a genuine smile that wasn’t there before. Hyouga is ready to go back as well, but he doesn’t – one because he has yet to eat dinner, something Fubuki-senpai said is a must after practicing so much, and two – because he really, really doesn’t feel like going back to his room.

In the end, he sits by the table and eats a whole plate of rice and some meat he couldn’t indentify, and when he finishes and cleans the dishes, he sits back with a heavy sigh and slumped shoulders. For whatever reason, he feels tired.

Fubuki-senpai silently offers him a cookie. Hyouga considers eating it all at once, too, but he decides against it when he realizes it would be a lot more messy. He takes it and murmurs a thanks.

And then.

And then, because Gouenji apparently feels the need to be annoying to Hyouga who went through some hours of tough practice – because he was being productive_, damn it_ – comments, “You did a great job.”

And yes, okay, maybe Hyouga really is starved for any kind of attention and praise, because he doesn’t immediately tell him to shut it. Instead, he nods his thanks, although a little suspicious, before offering a quiet, “Not my best, but I appreciate it.”

He can be polite, after all.

Gouenji’s lips curl upwards, “The competition is next week, right?”

“On Friday, actually,” Hyouga corrects and watches as Fubuki-senpai whirls around to stare at him, “Kou mistook the date of our exam for the date of the competition.”

“So…”

“We don’t have a lot of time, yeah.” He muses, “But we’re not going for the win, so it’s alright. I don’t really care about the prize, anyways.”

“Isn’t the prize what’s best in school competitions?”

Hyouga gives him a considering look, but in the end, he shrugs and says, “Usually. Not for me. And not for Kou, though.”

“She doesn’t care for it?”

“She has enough of gold and silvers around her home,” he answers, finishing off his cookie, “From before. I have a lot of those myself.” The cookie in his mouth suddenly tastes like ash and he slumps on his seat a little.

Golds and silvers, and diplomas saying Hyouga won something – countless of reminders that Hyouga used to win and win, until winning became a motto and not winning a taboo. He sometimes wonders if that’s how Kou felt as well – if the constant pressure drove her creative streak to seek passion somewhere else.

He wonder, too, if she sometimes misses the times where she could play the way she wanted to play as much as Hyouga misses drawing for the sake of drawing.

Gouenji hums to himself. It’s only when Hyouga looks up, that he realizes Fubuki-senpai disappeared somewhere. “Bathroom,” Gouenji says seeing his look. Hyouga tries to quell the automatic anger that comes with that response.

The air becomes a little more tense. Hyouga shifts on his chair. Somehow, being alone with the man reminded him of God’s Eden’s dark and small cells and people standing guard in front of them. The thought alone makes Hyouga somehow sick.

“Did you know of it?” Hyouga blurts out.

Gouenji blinks, “Of what?”

“Of what was happening. At God’s Eden.”

“To some extent,” Despite the sudden change in topic, Gouenji answers truthfully, “A lot of what happened there I found out from Endou and the others.” At Hyouga’s distrustful look, he continues, “I knew about the rigorous trainings – I did not know about what happened behind the closed doors.” He added, throwing a meaningful look at him.

Hyouga narrows his eyes, “Sure.”

Gouenji sighs, “I’m not expecting forgiveness from you, but I’m also not going to talk any further about it.”

“Why?”

It’s Gouenji who narrows his eyes now, “Why? Because it’s hurting you.”

Hyouga blanches at that. Gouenji doesn’t back down.

“How would you—“

“No.” Gouenji interrupts, “You know what I mean. Fubuki won’t tell me, but I’m not stupid. You’re hanged up on the whole Fifth Sector fiasco, you’re punishing yourself by constantly thinking about it and quilt-tripping yourself into seeking some kind of justice for the other kids,” Gouenji leans forward and suddenly, Hyouga is glad he’s sitting on the other side of the table, “that’s what’s been bothering you, isn’t it?”

Hyouga stubbornly refuses to answer.

Gouenji adds, and his eyes become a little softer, “You’re feeling guilty because Fubuki is paying attention to you and not the others. Same thing with the phone. You don’t feel like you deserve it, so—“

“Stop—“ Hyouga tries.

“—so you deny it and deny it. And the cycle repeats. And that’s probably why you hate me as well, because I’m here when I could be out there with someone who deserves it much more than you—“

“Shut up!”

Gouenji cuts himself off. Hyouga breathes out deeply and puts his head into his hands, before meekly repeating, “Just shut up.”

Gouenji does.

And yet, Hyouga knows better than to think that the man dropped it. He’s allowed few minutes at most, and they drag out feeling like eternity, before Gouenji says, “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t want to hear what you want to say.”

“Because I’m telling the truth?”

Hyouga glares, albeit weakly and not with any feeling behind it.

“Just because you think you don’t deserve something, doesn’t mean Fubuki or I think the same.” Hyouga closes his eyes shut, tight, “It doesn’t mean that your friend thinks it, too. Or Miyuki. None of us consider you any less than you are.”

“Shut. _Up._” His voice cracks.

“And you know Fubuki would tell you the same thing if you’d only ask,” Gouenji insists, “Although, I’m sure he already proved it, didn’t he?”

“Do you think it’s so easy?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m saying it’s simple,” then, because Gouenji seems like the type of person Itetsuki-san is, and that is firm and straightforward, he adds, “I don’t know what you went through, but that cowardly attitude needs to stop.”

Hyouga flinches. Anger mixing up with shame clocking up his throat.

“I’m cowardly?” he bites out, standing up, and he hates the way he raises to an obvious bait, but he won’t take that sitting down, not after what he went through with his parents not long ago, after coming this far, “For what? For being scared? You don’t know anything about me besides what Fubuki-senpai told you.”

“That’s true—“

“And if you’d bothered to actually get to know me instead of acting like a know-it-all you’d know it, too. You’ve done nothing but try to get to like me because of Fubuki-senpai. That’s your whole reason. I don’t give a damn about what you do with him, but calling me a coward isn’t a way to get me to like you.”

“Literally,” Gouenji cuts in, “That’s what you’ve been doing as well. Didn’t we come to an agreement?”

“And I’m fine with it! But you’re trying to compliment me and do more than that, and I don’t—“ he cuts himself off when he sees Fubuki-senpai in the threshold, grip on the table he didn’t know he was desperately holding onto, tightening.

Voice dies on him and Hyouga sits back down, more from his legs feeling like jello than the actual need. He never lets go of the table.

“Sorry, did we disturb you?” Gouenji is the one who speaks up first, as if Hyouga didn’t just snap and shout at him.

Fubuki-senpai narrows his eyes, and judging by the way his eyes flick from Hyouga to Gouenji, he’s worried and unsure, too.

“It got kind of loud,” he admits, before he looks to Hyouga’s pale face, “Are you alright?”

He isn’t, but he nods anyways.

“We were just talking.” Gouenji answers for him, “And I might have touched on a sore topic.”

Hyouga grits his teeth, “Entertaining for you, isn’t it?”

Gouenji sighs, exasperated, “I’m trying to understand, not to attack you. Fubuki won’t actually tell you any of this face to face.”

“Stop bringing Fubuki-senpai into this!” Hyouga snaps again. Mentioned person actually looks surprised at the outburst, “Fubuki-senpai this, Fubuki-senpai that. Do you think I’m so far into my head that I don’t know all of it?” He’s pretty sure his voice gets a little hysterical, “Do you think I don’t realize that people care now? That it’s just so easy to forget years and years of someone telling you that you’re worthless and a waste of potential? Huh?”

Gouenji doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close thing with how he’s slowly standing up.

But Hyouga doesn’t stop there, not yet, “I want to believe them and I’m trying. You’re not making anything easy with how you’re just—just—“ he gets choked up, “suddenly here and up in my face and I don’t know how to act and I don’t know where I stand. It’s not so easy to—to just adjust to that.”

Fubuki-senpai looks pained at that and he grips at his own arms, as if feeling guilty. It makes Hyouga spiral down even more and feel even shittier.

“I didn’t want to upset you…” Gouenji starts, hesitant.

“What? Did you think I was going to jump in joy when you said all that?”

“I was hoping to—“

“Gouenji. That’s enough.” Fubuki-senpai raises his hand, “We meant well, but it’s clear we actually did it the wrong way,” he looks to Hyouga,” didn’t we?”

Hyouga relaxes, not even realizing he tensed up in the first place and he nods, “Yeah,” he answers, then lifts his eyes just a little higher, to look Fubuki-senpai in the eyes, “I’m sorry for shouting.”

“It’s okay.”

Then, because Hyouga doesn’t want to look at Gouenji, but he doesn’t want to come home either, even though it is, technically, getting late, asks, “Can I step out for a second? To the garden?”

As if on call, Nana jumps out from behind the corner speeding towards the exit. Hyouga watches her go, barely registers Fubuki-senpai’s quiet permission with a soft ‘thanks’ on his own. He does hear Fubuki-senpai snapping at Gouenji in a mildly anger-ish tone, though and that alone makes him feel a little better.

* * *

He doesn’t know how long he sits on the stairs, Nana on his lap purring as he strokes her fur, but when whatever fog that’s been clouding his mind lifts up and he comes to himself, the garden is being illuminated in a soft orange glow and the birds are chirping quieter with every second. It even becomes cold as to make Hyouga curl up on himself.

He did a lot of thinking. Of what Gouenji said, mostly. Of the ‘cowardly behavior’ he showed, and yeah, it does pisses him off to be described like it when it’s Gouenji who suddenly decided Hyouga is worth his time, but most of all, it reminds Hyouga that Gouenji is, indeed, right.

Hyouga is a coward. He’s spent his life as a coward, running away, or choosing the easier option, letting people step on him when he didn’t feel like fighting. He knows, he knows it was a bad time for him and he’s trying to build himself something new, something he wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of.

But it’s hard.

Yes. They came to agreement. Yes, Gouenji Shuuya isn’t as bad as Hyouga thought, but he’s not the person Hyouga feels most comfortable with. He’s hard to read, too obvious in hiding something. Media liked to paint him as ‘a person hiding a hot, burning passion behind a cool façade’ and maybe, maybe they actually nailed it.

He’s also a new constant in Fubuki-senpai’s life and even though Hyouga knows where he stands, hypothetically, there’s always this gnawing doubt wherever he catches Gouenji smiling at Fubuki-senpai.

It reminds him of Kotone too much, sometimes.

And it’s—

“It’s getting cold.”

And then there’s a blanket thrown over him, Gouenji sitting down on the stairs next to him with a cup of something steaming in his hands.

Hyouga doesn’t move for a long while and only shakes himself awake when Nana meows at him. He continues petting her before wrapping the blanket around himself and asking, “Is Fubuki-senpai mad?”

“At you?”

Hyouga bites his lip, “Yeah.”

“Kind of. Mostly at me. I don’t know when to stop prying, apparently.” When Hyouga glances at him, the man is focused on the orange sky above them. “I’m too used to Endou and my old team. Usually, I’d just kick a ball at them to make them stop being stupid.”

Hyouga deadpans, “What.”

“It worked,” Gouenji defends, “most of the time. But he’s right, I pushed a bit too much.”

“A bit?”

Gouenji sighs, “A lot.”

“Mhm.” Hyouga mutters out.

Gouenji takes a sip of his drink and it’s quiet for another moment, before it’s Hyouga who breaks the silence first, hands nervously playing with Nana’s fur, “Sorry for jumping on you, though. We weren’t supposed to fight with each other.”

“We’re both at blame, then. I apologize as well.”

Hyouga hums.

This Gouenji feels more real. The media one doesn’t feel alive, it feels fabricated and fake. He remembers the newspaper when he first learned about him, the way the picture didn’t resemble who Hyouga saw in the Coach lounge in the gym at Hakuren the first time.

Maybe. Maybe this is the Gouenji Hyouga failed to see earlier.

“Thanks,” he blurts out in the spur of the moment making Gouenji look back at him, “for that time. When you stood up to my parents that day. I never properly thanked you for that.”

“There’s no need—“

“No. There is,” Hyouga insists, “They’re mad because I listen to Fubuki-senpai more than them. Seeing you taking my side was probably a shock, too. I think they wanted you to hate me.”

Gouenji frowns, “Why?”

Hyouga shrugs, “Because then Fubuki-senpai wouldn’t like me, either. And then I would have no excuse to avoid doing what they want me to do. That kind of thing.”

“And they want you to do what, exactly?”

“Art, mostly. Dad wants me to follow him into his footsteps as a designer,” Hyouga takes a deep breath, “Mom wants me to make money for them. They always pushed for art, because I’m good at it.”

Gouenji doesn’t reply.

Hyouga continues, “I used to let them tell me what to do. Soccer made us transfer schools and move out a lot, so I thought it’s fair of them to treat me like they did. But no one threw me out of Hakuren even as I played, and yet they became more and more mean. I think I snapped one day, I don’t remember,” after a pause, he adds, “Maybe I don’t want to remember. I just didn’t want to be a coward anymore and let them do as they pleased.”

“I’m sorry for saying you were one.” Gouenji whispers.

Hyouga stays quiet for a moment, before waving his hand, “It’s fine. I did act like a jerk.”

There’s a shadow of a grin on Gouenji’s face, “That you did.”

“Hey!”

“You admitted it.”

Hyouga grumbles, “It doesn’t mean you should agree, though.”

“Mhm, maybe.” Then, in a slightly more serious voice, “So. Your parents. They’re just in the way?”

“We don’t see each other that often anymore. They ignore me a lot, don’t even notice I’m not there since they work a lot, too.” Hyouga lets Nana slip off from his lap and sees her make her way back into the house, probably feeling too cold to stay outside, “Sometimes they wake up and remember they have a son, but then it ends up like that dinner.”

“That’s not fair to you.”

“I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You talk like Fubuki-senpai.”

Gouenji hesitates, “About that... You do know that I’m not taking him away from you, right?” Hyouga wraps the blanket tighter around himself, “Fubuki’s beating himself over it, so I want you to know that you and I take different places in his heart. You shouldn’t feel jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Hyouga protests weakly.

“Anxious, then.” Gouenji corrects, “He sees you as his own kid. You will always take the first place in his heart,” then, to himself, a little theatrically dramatic, he adds, “I actually got yelled at for making you upset. He wasn’t even mad that you raised your voice.”

Hyouga snorts, then bursts in laughter.

“I’m glad you find it so hilarious, Yukimura.” Gouenji comments drily.

“It’s just—“ he wheezes, “I just imagined you with that kicked puppy look as he scolded you and it’s so funny—“

Gouenji only groans, sipping on his drink, “You’re so much alike, I hate it.”

Hyouga only cackles louder.

* * *

“I’m going to mess up,” Kou is chanting to herself, hands shaking above the keyboard despite her best efforts to calm them, “I’m going to mess up and that’s because I didn’t touch the piano for months.”

Hyouga glances up from his violin to give her a look, “We practiced.”

“Not enough.” She insists.

He looks away, unbothered, “Aren’t you just nervous because Fubuki-senpai said Gouenji will be here?”

Kou throws him an offended look and almost snaps at him, but in the end, it looks like she choose not to get into a debate whether she’s nervous or not and she focused back on the keyboard. Hyouga watches her for a moment longer, before he does the same with his violin.

Truth to be told, he’s a bit anxious as well. Thoughts beating at his mind, telling him that he’s not good enough, that he will forget the notes and make a fool out of himself. But Hyouga grew up with those thoughts and ever since he met Fubuki-senpai and Miyuki-san, he learned to challenge them.

Or at least, he tries to.

For every ‘what if I fall?’ Hyouga tries to punch away with a ‘what if I succeed?’ and yes, it works half of the time, because sometimes, Hyouga is unknowingly more scared of success than of failure and it just backfires.

But. The attempt is made. So he’s not worried about that now.

Miyuki-san said, “Have fun at the competition!” and it rang loud and clear in his head, replacing his parents’ voices of ‘don’t mess up or else’ with a positive ring. Because it’s not a life and death situation any more, and Hyouga winning doesn’t matter.

What matters now, Hyouga finds, tuning his violin and glancing at Kou’s tensed form, is Kou’s own step to her own recovery.

“Hey!” He calls out to her and she whirls around, “I have your back, you know?”

_I’m right here._

Kou’s own wide, red eyes blink at Hyouga before one of the upperclassmen call out for the curtain to lift up and whatever courage that she had in that one second, disappeared in a blink of an eye. Well. Hyouga can’t say he didn’t expect _that_ to happen.

He thinks it’s always been easier that way – to be there for others, than to be there for himself. He was terrified when Fubuki-senpai showed up at the Talent Show; but now, when he’s there as a mental support, it’s like he suddenly gained 50+ to confidence.

Curtain disappears from their view and Hyouga puts the violin on his shoulder, bow ready. He taps his foot, three times on the ground. But Kou doesn’t start playing, like they rehearsed, it’s like she’s frozen still, eyes unseeingly staring at the keys in front of her. Hyouga sees Fubuki-senpai in the crowds, second later he notices Gouenji by his side and Miyuki-san trying to make her way to the front seats.

And yet, Kou can’t get her fingers on the keyboard.

Hyouga hears faint, confused whispers in the audience, and the teacher supervising the event makes a vague movement at him, before Yamada-sensei mouths a ‘what’s wrong?’ at him. Hyouga bites his lip, waits a second longer and then, when the murmurs gain in volume, he moves from the centre of the stage closer to where Kou is sitting.

And then, he puts his bow on the strings.

And he does the most ridiculous thing he could ever do, improvising a competition piece, completely different than the one he practiced in a duet, but it’s the only idea that comes to his mind when he sees Kou not being able to shake herself out of whatever memories are stuck replaying in her head.

The first notes are quiet, unfamiliar. Hyouga doesn’t know what he’s playing, he knows a melody, he recalls the words, but can’t put the name to it. Perhaps it’s something he heard elsewhere.

The beginning is sad. Then again, the popular belief is that the violin IS a sad instrument. His mother always told him it sounded heart-wrenching, as if someone was crying. Maybe that’s why he always liked it. He keeps at it until hesitantly, but surely, piano’s sounds join his.

He dares a look at Kou’s face.

He can’t see her eyes, only her back, but when her fingers move on the keyboard, the movements are practiced, not shaky at all. Her breathing doesn’t look shallow, either.

And for a moment there, Hyouga feels like those three minutes or so, were worth it, because Kou actually looks like she’s happy.

* * *

“You two were amazing!” Yamada-sensei gushes over them, one hand on Hyouga’s shoulder and the other on Kou’s, “Yukimura-kun, I’m sure you already know my opinion about your playing, but Kou-kun,” Yamada-sensei wipes a stray tear away, “It was beautiful.”

Kou stands straight and proud, and Hyouga wonders for a second why Yamada-sensei is so moved, before he realizes that it’s Yamada-sensei who Kou took immediate liking too and confided about her parents. Briefly, Hyouga recalls that it’s Yamada-sensei who’s helping her with her journaling as well.

Although the girl next to Hyouga looks happy, he sees the nervous twitching of her fingers and he probably stares at them for longer than he should, because Kou looks at him with a question in her eyes. Before she can ask, though, Yamada-sensei glances at Hyouga.

“Yes, Sensei?”

“Did you really have to play the Naruto opening?” She asks, exasperated and Hyouga stills, confused.

“I did?”

Kou blinks at him, “You didn’t realize?”

“I just played,” he shrugs, rubbing a hand on his neck, “I probably panicked a little, too.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kou looks away and when Hyouga tries to get her to look at him, she ignores all his efforts, “Sorry about that.”

Yamada-sensei immediately cuts her off, before she can get any further, “It wasn’t your fault, Kou-kun. I would have probably frozen given your situation, as well.”

Kou doesn’t look at ease, but she does flash a thankful smile at the teacher, before Yamada-sensei quietly excuses herself to go to the next contestant. The second she’s out of earshot, Hyouga grabs Kou’s wrist and tugs her forwards, moving towards the exit of the stage. He stops only when they’re in the corridor of the building.

“She’s right, you know?” he says but when Kou refuses to meet his eyes, he pushes, “You got through it—“

“I messed up!” she blurts out and Hyouga bites his tongue in order to not interrupt her, “I just kept thinking that—that they were winning or something.” Hyouga tightens his grip on her wrist, and Kou looks like she’s desperately grasping his hand, “That all I did was for nothing, that I’m always back there and—“

“It was the piece, wasn’t it?” Hyouga cuts in and Kou startles, “We choose a classical piece.”

Kou stares at him, eyes wide.

“How did you—?”

“I bet that’s why you couldn’t play. Because it reminded you of your parents.” Kou’s grip is now near painful, but Hyouga doesn’t stop there, “I know, because classical pieces are usually the ones we choose for serious competitions. So it’s not your fault.”

“But—!”

“What if I did the same? Would you say it was my fault that I froze?”

Kou throws him an outraged look, “Of course not!”

“Then stop blaming yourself. You did good,” then, he whips out his phone and checks the time, “I bet Fubuki-senpai and the rest think so, too.”

“How can you—“

“Hyouga is right,” there’s a voice behind them, making Kou snap her mouth shut and Hyouga to slowly turn around, “You made a great job improvising that piece, although I’m pretty sure all of us were surprised by the Naruto theme.”

Fubuki-senpai doesn’t waste any second and ruffles stunned Kou’s hair when he’s in reach, and then tried to do the same for Hyouga. The letter ducks his head before that happens, though and sends him a look.

Kou doesn’t look as convinced as she should, but Hyouga takes what he gets. Fubuki-senpai seems to have the same idea because he doesn’t push, either.

“Miyuki and Gouenji are waiting for us in the parking lot,” Fubuki-senpai informs instead and Hyouga fights off a frown when Kou’s fingers do a little nervous dance on her bag, “We can go get ice-cream after we drive back Miyuki, if you want?”

“What about the results?” Hyouga asks, before he thinks it through and shrugs, “Actually, never mind those. I’m sure one of the senpais will get the reward anyways.”

Kou hums, voice noncommittal, “I think so, too.” Then, she sends Hyouga a weak smile, “I will pass on that ice-cream, though. I promised Mom I will keep her company.”

Hyouga raises an eyebrow, “What are you? Her kid or a friend?”

“Yukimura-kun…” she starts, before she cuts herself off, probably actually seeing sense in that sentence, “She just. Misses me, that’s all.”

“And you’ll—?”

“It’s one of my last days at home,” she finally admits and Hyouga is so surprised that he doesn’t say anything to that, “after that, I’ll live with my uncle. I want to,” she hesitates, “I want to properly say goodbye to her and Dad.”

“Oh,” is all Hyouga can comment.

Fubuki-senpai blinks at her, before his hand ruffles her hair again and he sends her a smile, “I’m sure you’ll be able to say what you want to say.” And even though it makes no sense to Hyouga, Kou looks grateful.

“Thank you,” she answers with a bigger smile than before, then waves at Hyouga, “And thanks for helping with the competition. You played wonderfully.”

She’s on her way to the exit just as Hyouga’s brain is booting up trying to come up with a proper response to a compliment. In the end, his throat goes dry and he doesn’t reply at all, but Fubuki-senpai assures him that Kou knows what he wanted to say despite him not being able to say it.

And as they start going in their own direction, Hyouga wonders if perhaps Kou’s today’s play, was her own goodbye to whatever she’s going to leave behind when she goes to live with her uncle. Then, he thinks, that maybe it wasn’t a goodbye after all.

Maybe. Just maybe, it was actually a hello to a new start.

* * *

They do celebrate the competition with ice-cream, but it’s the ice-cream Fubuki-senpai keeps stashed in his fridge, so they go back home, settle down in the living room, each with their own box of frozen goods, and with a movie playing in the background. It’s quiet, it’s nice.

It’s weird.

Gouenji, true to Fubuki-senpai’s words, can entertain himself and he barely says a thing as Fubuki-senpai keeps up the small talk with Hyouga. In fact, he doesn’t look annoyed at being left out, either. He’s eating in peace and enjoying the movie.

It’s weird, as Hyouga noticed before, how it doesn’t even bother him now. How Gouenji’s presence, no matter how new and how uncommon, slowly begins to grow and become a constant, just like once Fubuki-senpai’s own warmth once did.

Scary as it is, there’s also the feeling of safeness and stability that comes with both of them in his life. Like there are actual adults he can depend on. He doesn’t know for how long Gouenji will stay at Hokkaido, or if he will ever go back to Inazuma Town. He doesn’t know anything, actually. And maybe that lack of knowledge is what was setting Hyouga off so much.

Because knowing things is a comfort to Hyouga. He knows Nana likes being scratched behind her ears; that Fubuki-senpai has a picture of his brother in his room; and that Miyuki-san bakes cookies when she’s thinking of her brother and how she misses him; that Kou and Itetsuki-san grow closer and closer to each other and it feels like Kou has more and more friends at Hakuren.

Bits of facts he gathered over the span of few months, it’s something that keeps him chained to reality.

Perhaps he’s been stuck in his head for too long, because Fubuki-senpai – who already ate his own box of ice-cream – snaps his fingers in front of him with a questioning look in his eyes.

“You alright?”

Gouenji momentarily glances at Hyouga.

“Fine,” he answers, but when he realizes that’s an old excuse no one believes anymore, he adds, “Thinking about my parents.”

“Oh,” Fubuki-senpai doesn’t look pleased at that, but Hyouga has grown older and he knows now that it doesn’t mean anything bad, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hyouga shakes his head, “It’s okay,” he murmurs, digging the spoon into his ice-cream, “I just know I have to go back to them at some point.”

_Always come back, always get ignored, always feel like I’m not doing enough and I’m worthless in their eyes._

Sometimes, his hand shakes as he thinks about it. Today, it feels like he’s numb to that. And he doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad.

Fubuki-senpai pats his head, “I understand.” As Gouenji throws in a, “I’m sure they won’t mind if you stay the night here.”

Hyouga smiles bitterly, “They wouldn’t, huh?” he mutters to himself.

It will always hurt. He knows it will never, never go away. That knowing his own parents don’t want him unless he’s a living puppet on the strings will always burn and claw its way into his throat and curl around his chest.

He’s not alone, at least.

“It’s no trouble if you do,” Fubuki-senpai reassures, and when Hyouga looks back at him, the man is staring at Gouenji, “You know you already have your own room here.”

He’s not alone anymore. He’s not. He’s _not alone—_

“I can’t believe he gets his own room in your house before I get one,” Gouenji comments out-loud and this time, he can’t help it – Hyouga laughs, with some stray tears sliding down his cheeks as he wipes them quickly away with a sleeve of his shirt. “How is that fair?”

“He’s been my kid before you were my boyfriend,” Fubuki-senpai shoots back, unbothered, before he sends a smile Hyouga’s way when Hyouga stills, always, always taken aback by this title, “So tough luck.”

Gouenji raises an eyebrow, “I always took the second place in your heart, didn’t I?”

“Of course.”

“You wouldn’t even share your ice-cream with me.”

Fubuki-senpai deadpans, “It’s my favorite flavor. Of course I won’t share it with you.”

Gouenji looks to Hyouga, “This is plain favoritism, and I hope you realize that.”

“Oh, he does realize that for sure,” Fubuki-senpai answers for him, “But he’s also not going to win when I say it’s past his bedtime, will you, Hyouga?”

“It’s barely eight!” Hyouga protests immediately.

Fubuki-senpai stares at him, hard. Hyouga gulps, before he slumps his shoulders, “That’s no fun. The movie didn’t even finish.”

Gouenji glances at the TV, “There’s about fifteen minutes left. Let him be, Fubuki.”

“I can’t believe you two teamed up.”

“It’s for the greater good,” Gouenji and Hyouga say in union. Fubuki-senpai looks mildly horrified, before he puts his hands in the air in the act of defeat.

“Fine. But you’re going to sleep right after.”

“Yes, yes, sir!”

In the end, he does watch the movie to the end, but he also falls asleep on the couch before he could move himself to his room, mind barely acknowledging the fact that he technically didn’t say he wanted to stay over and that his parents should be at least notified. And his brain, in other situation, wouldn’t just shut down knowing that.

And yet, the warmth, the buzzing thought of, ‘I’m not alone, I’m safe’ and the quiet movie in the background, lull him into sleep. He wonders if that slow feeling spreading in his chest, the lack of tension in his muscles, if those were the things Kou was thinking about when she playing earlier that day.

He wonders, before he completely loses his consciousness, if this is his own final acceptance and saying hello to a new future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gouenji: so when can i sign the adoption papers?  
Fubuki: back off, that's my kid. go find your own

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty sure there are at least some minor mistakes here and there because I do not have a beta and i'm independent writer who posts things with the courage of a chicken nugget, slamming the post button one second and yeeting myself to the bed under the blankets the next one, so like. don't expect much even though I did check it at least ten times in the past month. 
> 
> also. i forgot my homework somehow in the middle of that, so imma just
> 
> go and do that. at 11 pm. yeah


End file.
